


The Less I Know The Better

by frostfall



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Knives Out (2019), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But for Steve or Ransom remains to be seen..., Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Minor Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers and Ransom Drysdale are Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: It's no secret that the Rogers twins barely get on. To Steve, Ransom's a selfish asshole. To Ransom, Steve needs to take that stick out of his ass. But they're brothers, let alone twins. And as twin brothers, they're supposed to love each other unconditionally, right?Well, that's what Steve thinks.Until Ransom starts dating Tony Stark, who so happens to be Steve's best friend.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 252
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from 'The Less I Know The Better' by Tame Impala, which is funnily enough, about love triangles.

He knows something is wrong the instant he finds Ransom sprawled across his bed.

It’s not that Ransom’s presence in his room equal trouble. Like sure, there's the time Ransom egged Mr. McCoy’s house because he was giving out kale chips for Halloween or the time Ransom snuck a couple of hens in History class, resulting in Neena Thurman hiding in the janitor's closet for the whole day or the time Ransom hit on Jessica Jones who happens to have some knowledge in hand-to-hand combat, who also just happens to be Luke Cage’s girlfriend or—

Okay, maybe Ransom does only seek Steve out when he’s in trouble because he’s an asshole like that. And Steve, being the sentimental fool he is (Bucky’s words, not his), would cave in because well, how could he not? Ransom's his brother. And brothers have to help each other out, no matter what.

Not that Ransom bothers to return the favor but hey, who's keeping check?

“What is it this time?” Steve begins, dumping his backpack onto the floor. “Did you push Peter Parker into the lake and you want me to hide you from MJ’s wrath or snapped a picture of Peter Quill's—”

“Okay, first of, I don't need to snap a pic of Quill's dick,” Ransom cuts in, baring his teeth at him, “since I already have some on my phone. With his permission, by the way. And let me tell you, Quill's dick is a work of art. Really, the way it—”

And Steve's going to tune out because he doesn't need to know anything about Quill's dick but wait—

Steve frowns. “Didn't you and Peter break up a couple of months ago?”

“So?”

“What’d you mean ‘so’? Isn’t it weird to keep your ex's nudes?”

Ransom shrugs. “I mean, we’re not together per se but you know, a man has needs and we still—”

“Okay, fine. Good for you. I don’t need to know,” Steve interrupts hastily. “Anyway, not the point. The point is, what’re you doing here?”

Ransom snorts. “Can’t a guy check on his brother to make sure the American school system hasn’t blasted his brains?”

“Since when do you— Wait, is that my baseball?”

Ransom pauses, the ball falling into his hand and yep, that is definitely Steve’s. Ransom has no business owning a baseball, let alone one with Duke Snider’s signature.

“Relax. It’s just a ball.”

“A ball signed by Duke Snider.”

“Still. Just a ball.”

“A ball that’s signed by—”

“Duke Snider, yeah, yeah.” Ransom rolls his eyes. “See, this is one of the reasons why we can’t be twins. There’s no way I’m related to someone that’s obsessed with baseball, let alone with the _Los Angeles_ Dodgers.” Steve opens his mouth but Ransom ploughs on. “Also speaking of obsessions, how’s your progress on being the next Van Gogh? I'm no art expert but they look closer to being post-impressionist. They look more like if Da Vinci took acid before making a shitty attempt at minimalism.”

Steve’s tempted to tell him that _sketches aren’t post-impression or minimalism,_ and chuck the nearest book at his brother’s head but manages to restrain himself. It's conversations like these that remind Steve about how much he hates how well they know each other. The fact that he has a short temper doesn’t help matters.

“Get to the point, Ransom. What’d you want?”

Ransom tilts his head towards him as he catches the ball. His lips twist into that eat-shitting smirk that ticks Steve off.

“Tony.”

The gears in Steve’s brain screech to a halt.

Did he say what Steve thinks he heard Ransom say? Tony? He wants Tony?

Steve must have misheard him. There’s no way Ransom would—would—

What?

“Excuse me?”

Ransom doesn’t seem fazed, resuming tossing the ball in the air like he hasn't blown Steve's mind. “I want Tony’s number.”

Steve blinks. Apparently, he didn't mishear him.

Ransom and Tony. Tony and Ransom. Ransom wants Tony’s number, for some reason. Knowing Ransom, it’s for unsavory reasons.

If Ransom and Tony got along from the beginning, Steve wouldn’t be weirded out by the request. But ever since they met, they have done nothing but clash, conversing in backhanded comments and ferocious insults.

Now that he thinks about it, it also kind of makes sense. There’s a strange charge to their conversations. Their friends would tease Tony, coining it ‘unresolved sexual tension’ and nope, he’s not going there at all.

Asking for someone's number doesn't mean he wants to date them. Maybe Ransom needs a favor from him or he could've accidentally left his textbook behind or—

“You want Tony’s number?”

“For the millionth time, yes. Jesus Christ, Steven. Were you even listening to me?”

Steve ignores the jab. “For what?”

“None of your business. Just give me his number.”

“Not until you tell me why you want it.”

“I’m not telling.”

“Then, I’m not giving it up.”

Ransom catches the ball in one hand before lifting his head upwards. “You do know I could hack your phone, right?”

Steve tilts his head. “Since when do you know how to hack phones?”

“I don’t. I know your password.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve insists.

“0407,” Ransom answers proudly, propping his head with his arm. “FYI, it was a guess.”

Steve shoots his brother a glare as he moves to pull his phone out. “I’m going to change it right—”

“7040.”

“Fuck.”

Ransom guffaws. “God, you’re so predictable.”

Steve scowls, his patience running thin. “Seriously, why do you need Tony’s number? Don’t you have Quill to sext?”

Ransom snorts. “I don’t need Tony to get me off, you dumbass.”

“Well, forgive me for being a dumbass since you can’t even tell me why you want Tony’s number. I’m not going to simply give it up so you can harass—”

“Who said I was going to?” Ransom asks, sounding affronted.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “The last time you wanted someone’s number, you kept spamming them memes about birds.”

Ransom lets out an exasperated sigh as he motions to sit on the edge of the bed. “Wilson needs to learn to take a joke.”

“He already does,” Steve answers. “But there’s a difference between making jokes and being a jackass.”

“I call it having shitty taste in jokes and—” Ransom’s eyes narrow. “Could you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Ransom scowls. “You know. The look you give me every time you think I fucked up.”

He hurls the baseball towards Steve. Steve catches the ball effortlessly without turning his gaze away from his brother.

With a loud sigh, Ransom throws his hands up in defeat. Steve isn't ashamed of the satisfaction he feels from that.

“Okay, fine. I need Tony to tutor me.”

Steve couldn’t help but be surprised. It isn’t like Ransom to seek help at all, especially over something like his grades, which he never gave a shit about. Regardless, it makes sense for Ransom to seek help from Tony. After all, he's a genius. Physics is up his alley.

“Your grades aren’t that bad,” Steve says as he returns the baseball to its rightful place – the display case that’s propped on the shelf above his desk.

Ransom makes a noise of displeasure, crossing his arms. Watching his brother reminds Steve of a spoiled child who's dissatisfied with not having their way. Then again, Ransom often acts entitled.

“Tell that to Pym,” Ransom says indignantly. “Said that a C+ isn’t good, which is bullshit. I mean, it’s a just class quiz! Not some dumb mid-term. Sides’, it’s not like I flunked the stupid thing.”

Since Steve isn’t taking Physics, he can’t comment on that. He has caught glimpses of the teacher striding down hallways or conducting classes. He’ll admit, Dr. Pym does give off grouchy vibes. On top of that, Tony has ranted about the debates he’d get into with the teacher, usually resulting in Tony being sent to the principal’s office for ‘being disruptive’.

“Don’t you have Physics with Tony? You could’ve asked him just now.”

Ransom tosses him a withering look. “I would’ve asked if Pym hadn’t made me stay after class to yammer at me about how I was going to be a failure in life.”

“You’re not a failure,” Steve asserts.

“Never said I was.”

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

It isn’t like it’ll make a difference, withholding Tony’s number. Ransom could simply walk up to him and ask Tony for it. Heck, he’s not even sure why he’s hesitating. All Ransom wants is to pass a class. Steve would do it too if he’s in his brother’s shoes.

Besides knowing Ransom, he’ll just rat him out to their mother and she’ll definitely give Steve that disappointed look he loathes so much and then he’d feel bad and then—

“Fine,” he relents, pulling out his phone to text Ransom Tony’s number. “Just don’t piss each other off. I don’t have time to prevent World War Three.”

“Sir yes sir,” Ransom says patronizingly, giving Steve a mock salute. As he turns his attention to his phone, Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing.

“So, how’s your—”

Ransom doesn’t turn his attention away from his phone, brightening at the screen. “Hey, you actually came through. Thanks for this, Stevie. You’re a lifesaver. Bye!”

And like the hurricane he is, Ransom’s out of the room.

Steve exhales heavily as the door closes, leaving him in silence and disappointment and the longing in his heart growing.

Of course. It’s typical of Ransom to barge in, get what he wants, and then waltz out without another word. No, ‘How was your day?’ or ‘Did you hear about the fight between Murdock or Castle today?’ or ‘Wanna play a couple of rounds of Overwatch?’. No time spent bonding or catching up like any other pair of twins. Just them coming home separately and disappearing to their own rooms until dinner. Even then, Ransom would be antagonistic for no reason whatsoever and Steve would have to restrain himself from wanting to strangle his brother because their mother would have both of their heads on a pike.

Things haven’t always been like this. Steve and Ransom used to get along when they were kids. At one point, Steve would’ve considered him his best friend.

Then one day, Ransom began turning cold and cruel. Things got progressively worse over time.

Toeing off his shoes, he drops down onto his bed before pulling up a different chat.

_Steve: Just a heads-up, Ransom asked for your number._

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get an answer immediately. Knowing Tony, he’s probably holed up in his workshop, tinkering away at his latest project.

_Steve: He wants to ask you if you could tutor him in Physics._

Somehow, that seems to do the trick because he gets an answer immediately after that.

_Tony: That explains why I’ve seventy-three messages from him._

Steve sighs heavily, sinking deeper into his bed.

_Steve: Goddamn it._

_Tony: S’fine. I haven’t opened them yet. Not in the mood to deal with his Highness right now._

An involuntary chuckle falls out of Steve's lips. His phone chimes.

_Tony: He’s flunking class?_

_Tony: Not surprising considering how often he skips them._

_Tony: Plus knowing Pym, he’d be freaking out about it. That old coot._

_Tony: Let me guess, a C?_

_Steve: C+._

_Tony: Huh._

_Tony: Doable._

_Tony: Well, I guess I could tutor him. If he pays me._

_Steve: You’re a son of a billionaire._

_Tony: Hey, I need compensation for tutoring your brother in elementary school-level formulas._

_Tony: No offense._

_Steve: None taken._

_Steve: You don’t have to tutor him, you know. I won’t hold it against you._

_Tony: And have Sarah Rogers coming after me? That’ll be a hard pass._

_Steve: Ma won’t kill you for saying no. She’ll just kill Ransom for flunking Physics._

_Tony: Maybe._

_Tony: But I’d rather not take the chance._

_Tony: In case your mom decides to visit me in the middle of the night and inject me with some lethal chemical she definitely has access to._

_Steve: Doubt that’d happen but whatever floats your boat._

_Steve: Anyway, you have the night to think about it. You have time._

_Tony: Guess so._

_Tony: If I want two hundred more messages._

_Steve: Fuck._

_Steve: Shit._

_Steve: Sorry. I’ll tell him to knock it off._

_Tony: Like I said, it’s fine. I’ve had worse._

_Tony: Also, texting Tweedledum can wait. Right now, I need an honest opinion._

_Steve: Shoot._

_Tony: Please don’t kill me for this._

_Steve: Why on earth would I kill you?_

_Tony: Oh, you will. You most definitely will._

_Steve: Just spit it out._

_Tony: Okay, spoilsport._

_Tony: Do you think if I drank ten cups of coffee per day, I could last a whole week without falling asleep AND finish upgrading Dum-E by the end of said week?_

_Steve: …_

_Tony: ;)_

_Steve: Don’t you make me go over there._

_Tony: ;))))))))))_

_Steve: Tony, don’t you dare._

_Tony: Too late. I’m at my sixth cup._

_Steve: TONY!!!_

* * *

If anyone would’ve told Steve he’d be noticed by Tony Stark, let alone be considered as a friend, he would’ve called them crazy.

After all, Tony Stark is the son of one of the wealthiest men in the world, a smooth flirt, and a certified genius. And Steve is the complete opposite of that.

And yet, here he is, best friends with Tony Stark. All because of serendipity.

As a kid, Steve wasn’t the strongest kid around. He was short and scrawny, making him a perfect target for assholes and bullies like Brock Rumlow.

Normally, Steve would have Bucky by his side to help him ward off said assholes and bullies. But Bucky had caught a bad case of the flu that day, leaving little Steve defenseless and alone.

Or so Steve and Rumlow and his bands of idiots had thought.

One moment, Steve was on the ground, shielding himself from Rumlow’s kicks, the next, the great Tony Stark was shoving Rumlow away, demanding him to leave Steve alone.

At that moment, Steve couldn’t do anything but stop and stare. Despite knowing Tony since kindergarten, they’ve never interacted with one another. Not even once. So to have Tony defend him out of the blue stunned him.

“Or what?” Rumlow had sneered. “You gonna run off to daddy? Oh wait, your daddy hates you. He’s not gonna—”

It was that very punch that knocked Rumlow off his feet.

One of his lackeys had rushed to the nearest teacher, lending Rumlow, Steve, and Tony in the principal’s office.

Steve was quaking in his shoes then, afraid that both of them would’ve been suspended or worse, expelled. But Tony had argued their case and despite Rumlow’s feeble attempts at defending himself, the principal had bestowed a week’s worth of detention on Tony and a two-day suspension and a month’s worth of detention on Rumlow.

A pang of guilt had hit Steve when the punishment was given. Despite Tony being the one to throw the punch, he wouldn’t be nursing a sprained wrist and earning himself detention for a month if it wasn't for Steve.

And yet, Tony never complained. He held his head up high and accepted his fate.

“I didn’t need your help,” Steve had grumbled as they left the office for their respective classes.

Tony had pinned him with a look of disbelief. “A ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed, you know,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing at his bandaged hand.

A wave of shame had washed over Steve.

“Thank you,” he said timidly. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. You got in trouble because of me.”

“I knew I was getting into. No biggie.”

“You hurt your wrist.”

Tony laughed. Steve almost stopped in his tracks, startled at how sweet it sounded.

“That’s what happens when you don’t know how to punch like me.”

“Still. You didn’t have to. Help, I mean.”

“Of course I had to,” Tony said in incredulity. “I can’t let them treat you like that.”

“But we’re not friends.”

“We don’t have to be friends for me to help people, y'know.” Tony’s eyes drifted down to his shoes. “I mean, unless you want to.”

Steve had shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to make of Tony’s sudden shyness. “If you want.”

A smile crept up Tony’s lips. To this day, Steve could still recall that moment – the sunlight streaking through the window which cast Tony in a warm glow, the genuine warmth behind those brown eyes of his, the crinkle of his eyes as his lips curl upwards.

At that moment, Steve almost believed him.

But as they part ways to their respective classrooms, the euphoria faded. After all, why would the great Tony Stark want to befriend tiny and scrawny Steve Rogers? Tony was already a social pariah thanks to his heritage. He didn’t need more shit from everyone else by hanging around Steve.

But when he caught sight of Tony the next day, leaning against Steve’s locker, he realized Tony truly meant what he said.

Next to Steve, Ransom had stiffened, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s Tony Stark hanging around here?”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat, a smile spreading across his lips. Tony mirrors him.

“I think he’s waiting for me.”

And they’ve been inseparable since.

* * *

Steve finds out about Tony’s decision at the end of the next school day.

“I can’t believe you,” he says as they wade out of the crowd, coming to a stop at their lockers.

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

Tony shuts his locker, cocking an eyebrow at him. “No, I don’t know,” he says.

Steve rolls his eyes at Tony’s growing grin. He shoves a couple of textbooks inside his locker.

“You and Ransom.”

Tony flashes him a leer. “You make it sound dirty.”

“If you ever imply a sex joke involving you and my brother, I will personally throw out all your coffee in your house.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me,” Steve says as they make their way out of the building.

“Jarvis won’t stand for it.” Tony pauses. “On second thought, he probably would. Goddamn it.”

Steve’s about to reply to that when an arm drapes itself over Steve’s shoulders.

“Hey boys,” Carol greets cheerfully. Today, her hair’s pinned up in a ponytail, which tickles Steve’s neck as she darts her gaze between the two of them. “What're you guys talking about?”

“Tony’s obsession with coffee,” Steve says at the same time Tony replies with, “Me tutoring Ransom.”

Carol yanks her arms away, pulling to a stop to pin Tony with disbelief. “You’re doing _what_?”

Steve winces. Ransom never got along with any of Steve’s friends, especially Carol and Bucky. Based on their initial encounters with him, Steve doesn’t blame them one bit, even if they can be a tad too harsh at times.

“Seriously, Tony? I know you’re an idiot—”

“Hey—”

“—but not _that_ much of an idiot. Seriously, dude. What the fuck?”

“You know me,” Tony says innocently. “I love a challenge.”

Carol raises an eyebrow. “And tutoring that asshat is a challenge for you?”

“Isn’t it? It’s Ransom. Anything that has to do with him is a challenge.”

Carol scoffs as she adjusts the straps of her backpack as they resume their exit. “Has anyone ever tell you how much of a dumbass you are?”

“Every day,” Steve pipes up. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips as he darts away to avoid Tony’s playful slap.

“I’m still astounded that we’re still friends,” Tony sniffs. “I mean, to put up with such insults—”

“You love me too much to let me go,” Steve replies teasingly before he realizes what he has said.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches Tony flinch.

It hasn’t been long since that day and as much as Tony insists that he’s fine, Steve knows him well. It’ll take a while for him to get over it. If he ever could, that is.

“I—”

Thankfully, Carol clears her throat, cutting off any of his awkward attempts of changing the subject. "So, why're you getting in return for your services?”

“We haven't worked that out yet.”

“Well when you do, please don’t offer him sex. I know people say he’s like, great at giving blowjobs but—”

“Carol!”

“What?” she exclaims innocently to Steve. “It’s true. Not that I know but you know, word gets around…”

The tension in Tony’s shoulders dissipates but the smile he flashes them is still tight and insincere. It’s all Steve’s fault. If he hadn't said that—

“Please,” Tony says nonchalantly, waving a hand in dismissal. “You couldn’t pay me to kiss him, let alone sleep with him.”

Carol smirks. “Even for a billion bucks?”

“Hey, I’m the son of a billionaire. I don’t need more cash.”

“I mean, the billion would immensely help you be a trillionaire one day.”

Tony shakes his head. “Nah, I’m perfectly fine with being a billionaire.”

“But—”

A loud honk cuts through the air. Steve almost trips over his own feet at that. At the bottom of the front steps sits Ransom in his car. He fixes them with a wide grin as he sticks in head out of the car, one arm on the steering wheel, the other dangling out the window.

“Get in, losers!” Ransom calls. “We’re going shopping!”

Every student in the vicinity whips their heads up at Steve and his friends. Steve wishes he could sink through the floor right there and then.

Why is Ransom even giving them a lift in the first place? He never bothered to before this.

Carol rolls her eyes. “And that’s my cue to leave.” She plants a quick kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Punch him for me.”

“I would if Steve would let me.”

Carol pats Steve on the shoulder as she walks past him. “Please let Tony punch him. Just this once. _Please_?”

“Not today, Carol.”

“I’ll give you five bucks.”

Steve laughs. “Nope, sorry. Maybe if you’ll give me ten grand.”

“I don’t even have ten bucks. What makes you think I can even give you—”

A series of honks interrupts her.

“Hel _lo_? I don’t have all day for you three to stand around and look pretty.”

Carol whirls around, her jaw clenched. “Just chill, you asshole,” she mutters as she trots down the steps.

“See you tomorrow, Spaceface!” Tony calls after her. Carol waves behind her back.

“Danvers!” Ransom hollers when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. “How’s my favorite SJW doing?”

Carol flips him off in response, barely sparing him a glance as she powerwalks by his car. Steve couldn’t help but snicker at that.

“You know, as much as I think your brother’s a huge dick, I’ll admit that he has impeccable taste in movies,” Tony says as they make their way towards the car. “Unlike a certain someone.”

“Hey, Lord of the Rings are perfectly good movies,” Steve says defensively.

“Says every single fifty year old.”

“Says the Star Trek fan.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that Star Trek—”

“Sucks ass,” Ransom fills in. He pulls his sunglasses down, letting it rest on the bridge of his nose. “You two are late. I know Sesame Street isn’t that far from here but that doesn’t mean you can take your own sweet time.”

Tony cocks an eyebrow as he slides into the backseat, Steve riding shotgun. “And hello to you too, Regina. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

Ransom smirks through the rear-view mirror. “Nope. Unless you’re into foreplay. Then I wouldn’t mind—”

“Can you please not bring up sex jokes every time Tony’s around?” Steve cuts in. “Besides, I thought you were in a hurry.”

Ransom rolls his eyes as he pulls away.

* * *

For the next couple of hours, the Rogers’ residence is filled with nothing but intense arguments.

Steve isn’t sure if Tony managed to run through a concept with Ransom, by the way they’re going at it. They haven’t stopped shouting at one another ever since they got home.

Hell, even on the ride home they managed to get into a heated debate. This time, it's about Ransom’s taste in scarfs, which while Steve agrees that they are hideous, is a needless and pointless subject to squabble over. Steve had to physically pull Tony away from yanking on Ransom's scarf at one point.

Tony ranting about how ‘he’s losing brain cells listening to him’ is what does it for Steve. He flips to a blank page, cranks up the volume, and pretends that the world isn’t ending next door.

He loves Tony and he loves Ransom most of the time but goddamn, they need to learn to get along.

Too prideful, the both of them. It’s one of the many similarities they surprisingly share. He’d figure that they’d get along because of them. Apparently, life seems to have other plans.

“How’re they doing?” his mother asks as she pokes her head into his room.

Steve startles. He hasn't realized she’s home.

He sighs as he shuts his sketchbook, pulling his earphones out of his ears. The shouting grows louder.

“I think it’s pretty obvious how they’re doing, ma.”

Sarah hums. “In that case, I’ll make spaghetti and meatballs.”

Steve leaps at the opportunity. Unlike his brother, he always enjoys lending his mother a hand, despite being a complete disaster in the kitchen. He barely spends time with his mother, Sarah being away at work most of the time. Spending time in the kitchen means more time being around his mother, even if she has to put a pause to her stories to help rectify a mistake Steve has made.

Fortunately for him, Steve manages to not burn the meatballs or the kitchen this time.

“Could you get them both downstairs for dinner?” Sarah asks as she plating. “Oh, and could you ask Tony if he’s staying over? He better be staying over. I think we made too many meatballs.”

“You know Tony,” Steve says as he rinses his hands. “There’s no way he’s skipping out on your spaghetti and meatballs.”

She shakes her head. “You’re only saying that because you’re my son.”

“He said it, not me!” he calls over his shoulder as he bounds upstairs.

It’s only when he reaches the last step that Steve realizes that the squabbling has ceased. In fact, the whole floor is deathly silent.

Maybe they finally managed to reach an impasse and return to the tutoring session. Steve exhales in relief.

He’s about to turn the doorknob to Ransom’s room when he hears a quiet moan fills the air.

Sirens begin blaring in his head.

It can't be that. There’s no way that both of them would do that, especially after all that yelling.

Steeling himself, Steve raps on the door.

No answer.

He knocks again, this time a little harder.

Still no answer.

Three possible answers come to mind. Either they’re too focused on their work or they’re silently giving him permission to come inside or—or—

He pushes the last thought away. No, there’s no way. They hate each other. They wouldn’t do that.

He opens the door.

A brief glimpse at them answers the question that Steve has been dreading.

It’s not the first time Steve has walked in on Ransom making out with someone. It got frequent enough that he’d just turn right back out, head to his room, and try his best to forget the last minute ever happened. But for some reason, it’s different with Ransom and Tony.

With them, it’s like watching a car crash and burn. Steve couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear his gaze away no matter how much he wants to. Ransom and Tony don’t seem to notice his presence, continuing to kiss and touch and writhe on the bed and fuck, Ransom's groping Tony’s ass and Tony’s moaning quietly and what the hell—

Something ugly snakes into Steve’s head, an odd wave of possessiveness that he hasn’t felt before. The urge to pull them apart is strong and overwhelming.

Instead, he clears his throat.

Immediately, Ransom and Tony break apart, both of them whipping their heads up at him.

“Steve!” Tony exclaims, looking horrified. He climbs off Ransom’s lap, hastily combing through his hair. His reddened cheeks darken further. “I, uh— I was just— It wasn’t what it looks like—”

“Oh, but it was,” Ransom drawls next to him. He’s seated on the edge of his bed, looking as disheveled as Tony. There’s a smug smile gracing his lips. Steve itches to wipe it off him.

“Dinner,” Steve blurts out instead. “I, uh— Dinner’s ready. If you— Um— If you’re staying and uh—”

“I am,” Tony answers quickly. Fingers fly to his lips, tracing them with a feather touch. Steve couldn’t help but track the movement. They’re puffy and red. The fingers slip down to the side of his neck where a fresh bruise glistens under the light and Steve just can’t look away even though he should. “I, uh, I just—”

“We’ll be down in a bit,” Ransom answers, eerily calm. God, Steve has so many questions and things to say because _what the fuck did he just witness?_ “Just give us another couple of minutes.”

Tony flushes further.

“Great,” Steve says, his voice sounding faraway to his ears. He jabs his thumbs at the doorway. “Great. So I’m just gonna—”

Without any hesitation, he dashes out of the room and into the bathroom. The door closes with a resounding slam, making him wince.

“Steve? Ransom?” his mother calls from downstairs. “Everything okay?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Everything’s fine, ma!” he answers, his voice cracking. He quickly clears his throat. “I closed the bathroom door too loudly. Sorry!”

“Okay!”

Relieved that he brought himself some time to calm down, Steve collapses onto the toilet bowl lid before burying his face in his hands.

He should head back down before anyone checks on him but his feet feel like ice and he can’t bring himself to leave.

Because Steve saw Ransom and Tony make out. He saw Tony on top of Ransom, their lips and hands all over each other and their hair were a little messed up and—

And the bottom line is that Steve had witnessed his twin brother and his best friend made out. His twin brother and best friend who hates each other’s guts. Until now, apparently.

And Steve has no fucking idea what to do with that information.

 _So much for not wanting to kiss him_ , he thinks hysterically before letting out a soft groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm also jumping on the Ransom-and-Steve-are-twins bandwagon. This story isn't going to be a long fic, about several chapters long and an epilogue. This was originally supposed to be about 10k and a one-shot but like always, things got out of hand.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading so far! If you want to talk, I'm on [Tumblr](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/kapteniron)
> 
> You can also reblog this chapter on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/post/190085284776/the-less-i-know-the-better-chapter-one)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I didn't expect the reception I've gotten for this fic. But I'm super flattered nonetheless. Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! It really means a lot to me.

To say that dinner’s an awkward affair is understating it.

Usually, dinner with his family and Tony is a noisy but fun affair. Steve and Tony would be chattering away about anything and nothing, with Ransom butting in every now and then to rile the both of them up. Sarah would jump in to either make sure a warzone doesn’t erupt at the dining table.

But tonight’s the opposite of that.

Ransom’s oddly cheerier than usual, filling the awkwardness with mindless chatter. Their mother retaliates in return, most likely glad that her other son’s isn’t being a total asshole. Tony is passive, nodding along and only speaks when the conversation steers his way.

Steve would’ve been more concerned about Tony’s sudden change in demeanor if his brain could focus on being present. But all he can think of is Tony’s plump lips and frazzled hair how he moved and writhed and—

“So,” his mother’s voice fills his ears, snapping Steve out of his thoughts, “I forgot to ask but how was the tutoring session?”

And just like that, the mischievous glint returns to Ransom’s eyes. Steve wonders if their mother notices the wrinkles in Ransom’s sweater, the redness in his cheeks, or the stray locks framing his forehead.

“Oh, it was great,” he says, stabbing his fork into a meatball. “Tony was a great help.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow. “I hope you two got some work done considering—”

“Eh. A minor setback,” Ransom says, waving his other hand. “We managed it to settle our differences once and for all. Right, Tony?”

Tony blinks, his gaze darting from Ransom to Steve and back to Ransom. He looks as put-together as Ransom is, which isn't saying much.

“Uh huh. Yup. Sure. We did. Yup, yup.”

Sarah nods but she doesn’t look convinced. She looks like she’s about to speak but Ransom beats her to the punch.

“I mean, Steve walked in on us making up.” Ransom’s grin widens, flashing him a wink. It reminds Steve of a Cheshire cat’s. “Right, Stevie?”

Harsh guitar riffs fill the air, saving Steve from choosing between kicking his brother and throwing himself out the window.

Tony’s cheeks darken as he rummages through his jeans’ pockets. “Uh, sorry. I’ll— Er— I’ll just—” He nudges to the living room. “I’ll just— Uh, take it.”

“You know you don’t have to answer for permission in this house,” Sarah says.

Tony grins, the first genuine smile Steve has seen him wear since they were at school. “Well, Jarvis did raise me to be the perfect gentleman.”

“I can tell you that that’s not— Ow!”

Steve couldn’t help the satisfaction coursing through him as he lifts his foot off his brother’s.

As soon as Tony disappears into the living room, Sarah's gaze turns sharp.

“Something you boys wanna tell me?” she asks cooly, glancing between the both of them.

Ransom scowls. “This asshole—”

“Language,” their mother reprimands.

Ransom squares his shoulders. “Steve aka the a-hole I mentioned, just stepped on my foot—”

“He was trying to insult Tony,” Steve interrupts.

His brother shoots him a dark look. “I was actually trying to compliment him, dumbass. If you actually stopped to listen instead of—”

“Please, the fact that you of all people is trying to compliment Tony—”

“What? You think I can’t give compliments?”

“I’m saying that you—”

“Uh.”

Steve whirls around, meeting a pair of guilt-ridden eyes. Tony’s eyes snap away immediately.

He clears his throat. “Uh, just wanted to say that my ride’s here and—”

“You’re leaving already?” Steve blurts out. Tony never bails early. He’s always eager to overstay, even to go as far as to staying the night sometimes.

Tony nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I have homework due tomorrow. Gotta go finish that. ‘Cause you know. Richards would have my ass and—”

“But Happy—”

“Happy’s already outside,” Tony says. “I, uh, I called him while you were in the bathroom.”

“And hiding like a wuss,” Ransom mutters under his breath. The urge to stomp on his brother’s foot surges through him. He manages to wrestle it down before he could.

“Thanks for dinner, Sarah,” Tony says, flashing her a polite smile. “I'm really sorry for bailing early. I would love to stay but you know. School.”

“That’s alright.” She gets to her feet, picking Tony’s plate. “Let me pack this up for you.”

“No, it’s fine. I—”

“Tony. Remember what I said?”

Tony exhales. “To let you mother-hen me?”

Sarah grins, her eyes crinkling. “Well, I didn't actually say that. But at least you get it.”

She heads over to the cupboards in search of a food container, leaving the rest of them in tense silence.

There’s a part of Steve that’s itching to bring up the moment he walked on not long ago. The other's eager to pretend that it never happened.

As if he read his mind, Ransom makes the decision for him.

“So,” he begins, flashing his grin at Tony. “Same time tomorrow?”

Tony mirrors the gesture. Steve couldn’t help but notice that it’s tense and insincere. “I was thinking of a weekly meetup. Don’t think your brain’s prepared to comprehend Newton’s Law of Motions right now.”

“Never know until you try.”

“Honestly, you better not. You might not agree right now but I’m telling you, you’ll know when you burn out. Then, Pym will make you attend summer school and I’ll be topping your—”

“Nah. Can’t see you topping. You’re more like a bottom to me.”

Steve almost chokes on the water he’s in the middle of drinking.

Tony scoffs. “Excuse you,” he says, more amused and genuine than Steve thinks he’d be. “I’m very capable of topping.”

Ransom hums. “Okay, tell me about the last guy you were with? Ever fucked him?”

Steve scowls. “Ransom—”

“Yes,” Tony answers. “Twice.”

Ransom raises an eyebrow. Tony’s mouth parts.

“Tony,” Steve begins, “don’t you dare—”

“And he fucked me the other sixteen times.”

“—finish that sentence. Goddamn—”

“Language, Steve,” Sarah reminds as she reappears at the dining table. “What did I say about swearing at the table?”

“If you heard what they were talking about—”

“It was just harmless talk,” Ransom says, shrugging his shoulders. “Right, Tony?”

Tony hums in agreement. Steve ignores the unexplainable flare that sparks inside him.

“Well, don’t drag me into it. I don’t want to know.” She presses a brief kiss on Tony’s temple as she hands him the food container. “I’m just happy to see the both of you finally talking without shouting.”

Ransom smirks. “As I said, we managed to work things out.”

A faint blush creeps onto Tony’s cheeks. Steve wants to throw himself off a cliff.

Oh, if she only knew.

“Well,” Tony says, “I probably better get going. Don’t wanna keep Happy waiting.”

They walk him to the door and bid their goodbyes as Tony gets into the backseat of his ride. As they watch the car speed off into the distance, Sarah turns towards her sons with a cocked eyebrow. “You boys know that when I was asking what happened just now, I meant between the two of you and Tony.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, ma,” Ransom says innocently.

“Lie all you want, sweetie. But I’m your mom. And as your mom, I can sense when something happened between my sons. And let me tell you, as soon as Steve came downstairs, there was tension in there. Thick tension.”

“It’s nothing, ma,” Ransom insists. “Stevie and I are just fine.” He claps his shoulder as he spins on his heel, whistling as he heads back inside. Steve swears there's skipping involved.

Sarah’s gaze drifts over to Steve, her expecting look unwavering.

Steve manages a smile and hopes it’s enough. “It’s nothing.”

She sighs, holding her hands up in defeat. “Okay. Don’t tell me what’s eating at you.” She pecks his cheek as she follows Ransom inside. “Door’s open if you ever want to.”

Steve watches her leave, exhaling through his nostrils.

Maybe a good night’s sleep would help settle things. Make him feel better about everything. And maybe, he'll wake up tomorrow and realize it's all a hallucination and he didn't watch his twin brother and best friend kiss.

* * *

It might've all worked out if he could actually fall asleep.

Steve usually doesn’t have much difficulty falling asleep. Once his head hits the pillow and his body sinks into the confinements of his covers, slumber isn't far behind. Except when his brain decides to take an impromptu and unnecessary trip down memory lane. Then, he'll be up all night long. There's no doubt about it. Tonight is no different.

No matter how much he tries counting sheep, playing soothing video game soundtracks, doing breathing exercises, or even imagining Principal Fury in a lavender tutu, his traitorous brain could only fixate on one and only one thing – Tony and Ransom’s kiss.

He knows it’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid, replaying the way they kiss and touch and moan and recalling the array of emotions he felt as he watched. But his brain seems to be in the mood for torture.

Rolling onto his stomach, Steve inches over to his bedside table to swipe his phone off it.

One forty-two in the morning.

And he has to wake up for class in about five hours. He is so screwed.

Tossing his phone back onto the table, Steve flops onto his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

Maybe the whole thing was an accident. Maybe one of them fell on top of each other, got caught up in the moment, and did…that. It sounds plausible. Maybe.

After all, Ransom and Tony never liked each other. They couldn’t stop arguing before that happened. So how could they go from hatred to…whatever the hell that was?

Unless…

Unless they’ve been secretly dating. Or Ransom’s been in love with Tony this whole time. Or even Tony with—

The thought of all that makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip and why is he feeling so anxious and annoyed all of a sudden?

Steve lets out a loud groan as he pulls the covers away, exposing his bare legs to the early autumn air.

He doesn’t have time to deal with his stupid thoughts. Right now, he has one goal in mind – to get enough sleep for school.

Much to his disappointment, there aren’t any sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, which leaves him with only one option – chamomile tea. If that’s even any lying around in the house.

Steve manages to slip out of his room quietly, taking tentative steps to not rouse anyone else in the house. If Steve is grumpy when he’s running low on sleep, Ransom’s ten times worse.

But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he realizes he didn’t need to be as careful as he was being.

Ransom’s dressed in his typical nightwear – a loose sweater and sweatpants. He’s perched on the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of what looks like apple juice. Or at least, Steve hopes it’s apple juice. Their mother doesn’t keep alcohol lying around but Steve wouldn’t put it past Ransom to figure out a way to get some.

“Ma will kill you if she finds you sitting on the counter.”

Ransom rolls his eyes. “Ma’s asleep upstairs, dumbass,” he says but hops off, slipping onto one of the dining chairs. “Doubt she’ll come downstairs. She sleeps like a fucking log.”

Steve decides to not answer him, choosing to search the cabinets. Luckily for him, there’s a couple of chamomile sachets. He fights off the urge to fist pump.

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” Ransom comments behind him.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Silence befalls them. Steve takes the opportunity to busy himself with boiling water. Hopefully, Ransom would just silently gulp down his drink and leave without a word. Steve isn't in the mood to listen to him yak about —

“You know, I never thought Stark would be an amazing kisser.”

The electric kettle almost slips out of Steve’s grasp.

He knows Ransom’s saying all that shit to rile him up. He does this all the time. And like he always does, Steve’s not going to rise to the bait. Not at all.

“I mean, I know he’s been around. But let me tell you, between the both of us? Stark’s tongue is—”

Something in Steve snaps because before he could comprehend what’s happening, the kettle is no longer in his grasp and he’s inches away from Ransom’s startled eyes.

It’s a little unnerving to be this close to someone’s face, let alone someone that looks almost like him. If Ransom’s blond, it’d be like looking into a mirror.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

The alarm behind Ransom’s eyes vanishes, replaced with a mischievous glint. “It’s called kissing. It’s an action you do when you’re attracted to someone—”

“Cut the crap, Hugh—”

A flash of annoyance crosses his brother’s face. He always hated it when people call him by his first name.

“ _Ransom_.”

“You hate Tony,” Steve continues, ignoring the correction. “You’ve hated him since first grade. So what the fuck— _Why_ the fuck were you kissing him?”

Ransom purses his lips. “Technically, he made the first move—”

“I doubt that.”

“Believe whatever you like. But that’s the truth.”

“You didn’t even answer my question.”

“I would if you’d get out of my personal space.”

Steve clenches his jaw as he takes a couple of steps backwards.

Ransom spreads his hands. “I mean, you know what they say. Make love, not war.”

Steve sucks in a breath and mentally counts to five.

“Ransom—”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t get why you’re so huffy about it. It was only a kiss.”

Steve might believe that admission if Ransom isn’t prone to pissing him off by resorting to stupid antics like say, kissing his friends.

He turns on his heel, returning to putting the kettle on.

“Only a kiss,” Steve echoes dubiously.

“Yeah. You know, like The Killers song? _It was only a kiss, it was only a_ —”

“Yeah, yeah. I get the reference. Are you even flunking Physics?”

Ransom scoffs. “Please. I don’t lie all the time, alright? I have the quiz upstairs as proof if you’d like to see it. But it could’ve been torn after Stark jumped—”

Steve whirls around, pinning his brother with a glare. “For once in your life, can you take a conversation seriously?”

“What is there to take seriously? This isn’t some life or death situation. Stark and I made out. No big deal. We got caught up in the moment, succumbing to our sexual tens—”

“ _Ransom_.”

Ransom lets out an exasperated sigh. “Why’re you freaking out about this? This isn’t the first time you saw me make out with someone.”

Steve’s lips part, his brain itching to defend, accuse. That he doesn’t need Tony being toyed like Ransom’s previous lovers. Anything that makes sense.

But nothing leaves his lips. He probably looks like a fool with his jaw hanging, judging by Ransom’s widening smirk.

“Then again, I’d be weirded out too if I found my brother, let alone my _identical_ twin brother make out with the guy I’ve been in love—”

“I’m not in love with Tony,” Steve snaps.

Ransom shakes his head, stabbing a thumb at himself. “Twin brother here. None of your bullshit gets past me.”

“Well, you’re making shit up because—”

Ransom tuts. “My, my. Aren’t we getting touchy.” He takes a languid step forward, closing the gap between the both of them this time.

“You know, Steven,” he murmurs lowly, like he’s sharing a secret. “Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we share the same emotions. Or brain cells. Or eyes. Because apparently yours can’t appreciate a good thing when it’s right in front of you.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ransom smirks. “Like I said, hopeless.”

“If you think that you can use Tony to rile me up—”

“You do know that the world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” Ransom sneers. “Is it that hard to believe that I genuinely find Tony attractive?”

Steve’s nostrils flare.

Ransom pulls away, looking satisfied. “Don’t be mad that I got the balls to do something you couldn’t do.”

The kettle whistles behind them.

Ransom takes that as his cue to leave, dumping the contents into the sink his glass before walking out of the kitchen.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a breath as he listens to his brother's retreating footsteps. Counts to five. Opens his eyes and turns the kettle off. Rips the packet and settles the teabag inside his mug. Fills it with steaming water and waits for the teabag to steep.

He’s definitely not falling asleep any time soon.  
  


* * *

At some point in the night, the tea seemed to have worked. One moment, he’s replaying his exchange with his brother at four in the morning, the next, the sun rays are trying to melt his face, which means one thing.

He doesn’t have to check his phone for the time to know that first period is about to begin. Just the sight of the smirking emoji from Ransom says it all.

Flinging the covers over himself, Steve dashes into the bathroom to speed up his typical morning ritual, heart in his throat.

Of course, Ransom wouldn’t have bothered rousing him. Their mother would’ve left for work a couple of hours before Ransom would’ve woken up. And knowing his brother, he would’ve definitely taken the opportunity to humiliate his brother, even if he isn't there to witness said humiliation.

It’s times like these that Steve wishes he could retaliate in a similar manner. Oh, he definitely could.

But to quote his brother, Steve’s a ‘soft-hearted pussy’.

By the time he reaches the classroom, the class is already halfway through, the teacher writing on the blackboard. Steve tries to swallow down his pants, braces himself, and knocks.

Most people find it odd that a British woman like Peggy Carter would be teaching American History, let alone AP American History. Steve thinks it’s amazing that she’s capable of recalling both her homeland and American history. Not only that, but she’s also funny, down-to-earth, and doesn’t take shit from everyone, including the principal. Just like her niece.

Which is also the reason why he fears her too.

“Steven,” she remarks as if she’s talking about the weather and doesn’t that set the alarm bells in his head ringing. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

Several snickers fill the room. Steve’s cheeks warm. It’s not often he gets reprimanded by any of his teachers, let alone in front of the class.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Carter. My alarm didn’t go off and I swear I—”

“It’s fine,” she says, gesturing to the back. “Just take a seat.”

Something tells Steve that won’t be the end of it. But for the moment, he gladly takes the empty spot in the room.

“You’re late,” Bucky mutters as Steve slips into the seat next to him.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” Steve replies, pulling out his textbook. “What page are we on?”

“Thirty-two.” Bucky fixes him with a concerned expression. “Seriously though. You’re never late. How—”

“James.”

Miss Carter’s eyes narrow at Bucky as she juts two fingers at her eyes. “My eyes are up here.”

Someone lets out a quiet snort.

Bucky bobs his head, chastised. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

For the next several minutes, Steve tries to focus on what’s being taught. Usually, his brain would happily absorb the information. American History is his favorite subject besides Fine Art. Not to mention Miss Carter always manages to make her lessons engaging.

But the problem is that his eyes keep fluttering and his head aches and he didn't have time for breakfast and god, he hates Ransom so fuc—

Something bounces off left temple, jolting him. His eyes drift from the blackboard down to his arm where a crumpled ball of paper lays. He smooths it out with a tentative hand.

 _You look like shit_ , it says in a familiar scrawl. _What happened?_

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky. His friend doesn’t meet his eyes, casually twirling a pencil between his fingers as he supposedly listens to the lecture.

Bucky’s notorious for exchanging notes in class. Sixty percent of the time he lands himself in detention is because he decided that having a written conversation in the middle of class is a splendid idea. Steve learned not to indulge him the hard way during grade school.

But right now, he’ll take anything to stave off the exhaustion. Besides, Miss Carter doesn’t seem to be paying attention, focused on talking about early colonial America. Maybe she wouldn’t notice for once.

Steve sighs quietly before picking up his pencil.

 _I overslept_.

Making sure no one notices, he wedges the note under Bucky’s arm. Three seconds barely passes before he receives an answer.

 _You never oversleep_.

He glances up before writing out his reply.

_First time for every_

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence because a loud slam on his desk startles him and slackens his grip on his pencil. He whips his head upwards, meeting a pair of unamused eyes.

“Seriously, boys?” Miss Carter remarks. “Passing notes? In my class? You didn’t think I wouldn’t have noticed, did you?” Steve opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that. It’s a rhetorical question. I expected this kind of behavior from you, James, but not Steve. First, you’re late for class. And now this.”

“Miss Carter—”

The teacher holds out her hand, cutting Bucky off. “Detention. Both of you.”

“But—”

A steely scowl immediately shuts Bucky up. Despite the predicament he's in, Steve couldn't help but admire the respect and authority she commands at her age. Not even Prinicipal Fury has that.

With one last pointed look, she heads back to the front to resume the lesson.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve shakes his head, his gaze trained to the front. It’s not his fault Steve got himself busted. Steve knew better not to, especially in front of Miss Carter of all people.

On the bright side, at least she didn’t bother reading the note. It might not have been incriminating or embarrassing but he doesn’t need Miss Carter chastising him for his lack of time management.

Despite the reprimand, Steve still couldn’t pay attention to the lesson, too exhausted to care. His head almost falls onto his desk if the bell hadn’t come to his rescue.

“Way to go, Buck,” Steve hears Sam mutter as a flurry of activity begins around them, students hastily packing up and heading off to their next class. “Couldn’t you just wait for class to end?”

Bucky scowls. “He looked exhausted, man. I couldn’t just leave him like that.”

“Well, he would’ve only been exhausted and not sad now if you hadn’t—”

“Hey, it just happened that Carter has like supersight or some—”

“That isn’t even a real word.”

“Then, you tell me what it’s—”

Steve sighs as his friends bicker around him. It’s times like these that Steve can’t figure out how the two of them are in a relationship. Sure, they argue like an old married couple. But they do it so often that he can’t help but wonder what they see in each other.

“Maybe it should be in the dic—”

“Boys.”

Speak of the dev—teacher.

Miss Carter holds out two slips of paper, glancing between Steve and Bucky with apparent disappointment.

Steve swallows thickly as he plucks the detention slip off her grasp. “Miss Carter, I just want to say—”

“Don’t be sorry,” she interrupts. “Do better. Now, run along now. You three have classes to attend and I have a class to teach.” She pauses, her eyes softening as she takes Steve's in. “And Steve? Do get some rest. You look exhausted.”

He winces. “Yes, Miss Carter.”

As Steve and Sam step out of the classroom, Bucky excuses himself back in, wanting to speak to the teacher.

“Everything okay last night?” Sam begins as they wait for Bucky.

Steve nods, wiping his face. “Yeah. I just overslept.”

“Something happened last night?”

_Yup. Ransom and Tony made out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it? Is it weird? I think it’s weird. I just—_

“Nah,” Steve says instead. “Just had a little argument with Ransom.”

Sam nods sympathetically. “Wanna talk about it?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nah. It’s fine.”

Sam grimaces. “Must be a hell of an argument to keep you up all night.”

Steve feels himself wince. “Yeah.”

Sam’s about to reply when the door next to them opens.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, his head bowed. “I tried to tell her it’s my fault but—”

“It’s fine, Buck,” Steve replies. “I didn’t need to answer it. Besides, it’s just detention.”

“I know. But still—”

“No sex for a month.”

Steve groans, squeezing his eyes shut in disgust. He gets that Sam’s just being protective. He also gets that his friends are horrifyingly sexually active. But can every single person around him stop making everything sexual?

“C’mon, babe,” Bucky whines to Sam. “You can’t do that to me. I need—”

“If you try to finish that sentence,” Steve interrupts. “I’ll castrate you myself.”

Sam ignores Steve’s plea. “Please, it’ll only be a month. You’ll survive. You’ve been surviving without it ever since you were born.”

“Yeah, but that’s different because first of all—”

The couple continues to bicker in the hallway, barely acknowledging Steve sneaking off to his next class.

It’s probably for the best.

The next couple of classes pass by in a similar manner to first period – Steve trying to pay attention while he balances a headache, hunger, and sleepiness. Thankfully, none of the teachers seem to notice how out of it he is. Then again, Steve doubts anyone is as perceptive as Miss Carter.

Except for Natasha.

No matter how hard Steve tries to deflect or lie, she always knows if something is bothering him. It's both comforting and terrifying.

“Someone pissed in your cereal this morning?” she asks casually during lunch.

Steve glances wildly around him. Fortunately, the rest of their friends aren't paying attention to them. Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey are in their own world, discussing theories on the upcoming Wonder Woman movie while Carol and Tony are in the middle of their usual Star Wars vs Star Trek debate. Or at least that’s what Steve guesses, judging by their animated hand gestures and rapid lip movement. He’s too far away for Steve’s ears to pick up.

Just the thought of him sitting on one end of the table, with Tony on the other makes his heart ache. Tony never fails to leave an empty spot for Steve, no matter how late he is to lunch or if they're in the middle of a disagreement. Except for the time that— And no, he’s not going to go there because that’s the last thing Steve wants to think about.

Their friends had given them odd looks, especially Rhodey and the girls when Tony inserted himself between them without any hesitation. No one brings it up. Neither did they bring up how overly animated Tony seems to be too or how Tony barely glanced his way.

“What makes you say that?” Steve asks.

As soon as the words leave his lips, he wishes he could take them back. At this point, Steve doesn’t know why he bothers playing dumb. Nothing gets past her bullshit meter.

Natasha doesn't spare him a glance, her fingers continue to fly over the screen. “You’ve been staring down at your lunch like it killed your metaphorical pet rabbit.”

Steve’s tempted to shoot her a retort but he’s not in the mood for it right now.

“You know that the food here s—”

“And you look like you’re going to fall over any second now.”

“I’m just tir—”

“And you’ve been giving Tony that kicked puppy look you have on every time you guys get into a squabble—”

“What look?” Steve questions, a surge of panic shooting through him. “I don’t give anyone looks. Or puppy looks. And to Tony. Definitely not Tony.”

Finally, she lifts her head up, meeting his gaze with a knowing look. She arches one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. “Uh huh.”

Steve sighs. “I’m serious.”

“Sure you are.”

“Everything’s fine,” Steve insists. “Don’t worry about it.”

Natasha's lips thin. “I still think you two need to talk—”

“Nat,” he cautions.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll change the subject.” She spoons what is supposedly mashed potatoes between her lips, chewing languidly. If Steve hasn’t been out of it, he would’ve made a comment about how the potatoes here taste like mushed dirt and how the meatloaf tastes like wet cardboard and—

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Natasha’s calculated gaze doesn’t waver. Steve shifts in his chair. It’s unnerving. Then again, that’s the point of it, he supposes.

“Oh nothing,” she deadpans. “Just admiring your jawline, is all.”

Sam tsks next to Steve, joining in on the conversation. “Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. Wait ‘till Sharon hears about this.”

Natasha scoffs. “Please. If she's here, she’d agree too. Besides, I was about to say that a jawline like is wasted on an idiot like Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve says half-heartedly.

Sam hums. “You’re goddamn right about that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, letting his friends make fun of him. He’s too exhausted to care.

But one thing he does care about is Tony.

Natasha’s right. Steve needs to talk to him. And the faster they address the elephant in the room and work through it, the better. Steve can't let Ransom ruin his friendship with one of the best people he's ever known.

That’s it. He’s going to do it. As soon as they can.

Not now though. Later. As soon as they’re alone. Or at least, out of the earshot of their friends.

Which means sixth period.

Sixth period for Steve, like most of his peers, is Gym. It also so happens to be the only class Steve shares with Tony.

As he changes into his gym clothes, he runs through a list of possible things to say to Tony.

_Sorry about interrupting your ill-advised make out session with my brother._

_Why would you let Ransom kiss you? I thought you said you’ll never kiss him._

_Don’t you hate each other?_

_Is it weird that your kiss keeps playing in my head?_

_You two wouldn’t stop yelling at each other so how the—_

_My brother’s interested in you and I hope you’re not because that’s just—_

Steve sighs, shutting his locker. Unlike his brother, words don’t come easy to him. Guess he’ll have to wing it and hopefully not fuck things up any further.

Most of the class have already gathered in the gym, chatting among each other. Steve surveys them in hopes of spotting Tony’s mop of hair in the crowd. Tony's one of the shortest guys in their grade, which makes him difficult to spot in a crowd.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

Steve whips his head around, his heart thumping against his chest. “Tony?”

“Do I sound like a teenager to you?”

Steve freezes, his eyes finally registering who he’s speaking to. “Uh, no. No! Of course not, Coach Howlett. I was just— I, uh…”

God, does he hope no one is paying attention to them right now.

Coach Howlett bristles, pinning him with his ever-present scowl. “You must be really out of it for you to mistake me for your boyfriend.”

Heat spreads over his cheeks. “He’s not my—”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The coach gestures to the door. “You’re excused from class today. Head to McCoy’s. Get some sleep in you.”

The thought of lying in a bed almost tempts him out the door. As soon as he does, a pair of brown eyes and a warm smile flash through his mind.

“I’m fine. I’m just…”

Tired? Sleepy? Wondering where his best friend is?

Coach Howlett shrugs. “Your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, he strides away, blowing on his whistle. The shrill noise makes several students wince, including Steve.

“Okay, pipsqueaks. Gather ‘round. Today, we’re—” The teacher pauses, scanning the crowd of students. “Where’s Stark?”

Everyone else glances around them, a quiet murmur breaking out among the crowd. Steve’s eyebrows knit together. He’s right. Tony’s not in sight.

Neither is Ransom.

The same possessiveness he felt the night before washes over him again. Are Ransom and Tony skipping class together? Running late together? Are they in the middle of doing…that again?

But they couldn’t be. Ransom said it was a one-time thing. Not that Steve trusts his brother’s words. But still. Tony hates Ransom. There’s no way—

“Hey, Rogers. Know where your boyfriend and brother are?”

Steve tries his best to ignore the countless pair of eyes trained on him. Behind him, he hears Bucky and Sam snicker.

So much for being his friends.

“Um. No, sir.”

Coach Howlett huffs. “Whatever. Stark’s probably blowing shit up in the Physics Lab again. God knows where the other Rogers is. Don’t matter.” He clasps his hands together. “Anyway, today’s game is volleyball and— Yeah, yeah. Y’all hate being hit by balls. Don’t we all? And if you make a dick joke again, Quill, there’ll be a month’s worth of detention and twenty laps around the track. You mark my words.”

* * *

Usually, the final bell means the end of a long and boring day at school. Steve would be counting the seconds down as he eagerly waits for the clock to strike three. Then, he’d join the crowd of students in the hallway, either making plans with his friends or heading home for the day to relax.

But since Steve’s a dumbass who got himself in trouble, he’s still stuck within the building for another hour.

“God, I really hope it’s Howlett,” Bucky says as they make their way to the detention room. “I could use some sleep.”

At least Bucky's with him. They could be idiots in detention together. They might not be able to converse but it's comforting to know a friend's with him.

“Or maybe you could actually make use of your time to actually finish your homework.”

Bucky pauses. “How did you—”

“Sam.”

Bucky scoffs. “Of course. That fucking asshole.” He blows a raspberry, waving his hand. “Homework shomework.”

Steve smirks. “Tell that to Miss Storm tomorrow. I dare you. I’m sure she’ll wholeheartedly agree with you.”

“Hilarious,” Bucky grumbles. Steve's grin broadens. “No, really. You’re a riot, Rogers.”

Steve chuckles. “I’m touched you noticed.”

“Asshole,” Bucky mutters as they come to a stop in front of the detention room. “You go on ahead. I need to pee. Been keeping it in since last period. I thought it was gonna burst when—”

Steve wrinkles his nose. His friends really need to learn to stop oversharing. Though he's pretty sure Bucky did it this time just to annoy him. “Shouldn’t you have gone earlier?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I would’ve if you’ve gotten eight hours of sleep like a growing boy like you should.”

“We’re the same height!” Steve protests.

“Not the point,” Bucky sing-songs as he begins to backtrack. “The point is I’m here to make sure you don’t suddenly fall asleep in the middle of the hallway and have Principal Fury calling your mom up because you didn't make it to the detention room.”

“I’ve made it this far!”

“You never know!”

Steve watches his retreating form before spinning on his heel, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He should've taken up on Coach Howlett's offer. Not only Tony didn't show up for class, neither did Ransom. Which didn't help matters at all.

Suddenly, having Coach Howlett overseeing detention today sounds like heaven.

The detention room looks like any typical classroom, save for the subject-related décor. There’s no one else inside, save for the teacher-in-charge, who so happens to not be Coach Howlett.

Steve has never had Benoit Blanc in any of his classes before. Except for that one time Ransom managed to convince him to switch classes with him for a day. But that doesn't actually count considering Mr. Blanc isn’t his teacher and he got himself kicked out of class barely a minute into the class. From what he’s heard from Ransom and his friends, Mr. Blanc does only two things in detention – either grading papers or mouthing along to the show tune he’s listening to, which he so happens to be doing right now.

Steve raps his knuckles on the teacher’s desk lightly. “Um,” he begins, “Mr. Blanc?”

Mr. Blanc startles, lifting his head up. A broad smile spreading across his lips when their eyes meet.

“Steven!” he exclaims in that cheery Southern drawl of his. “What a pleasant surprise. I’d never expected to see you here. I hope you’re not here covering for your brother again.”

Steve winces at the memory. Mr. Blanc remains to be the only teacher that saw through Ransom and his switcheroo. It’s unsurprising, considering the fact that the teacher used to be a detective.

“Yeah, well.” Steve slides his detention slip towards him. “First time for everything, I guess.”

Mr. Blanc scans the slip, his eyebrow arching. “Never pegged you for the type of person to be passing notes in class.”

“I usually don’t.”

Mr. Blanc looks at him in anticipation, probably expecting Steve to explain himself. When Steve doesn’t, he nods. “Well, I’m sure you know how detention works.”

“I sit and keep my mouth shut for an hour?”

Mr. Blanc smiles. “Exactly. You’re welcome to take a nap. You look like you need it.”

Steve feels himself blush. “Er, yes. I—”

The sound of the door being thrown open cuts him off.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice exclaims. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Just the sound of Ransom’s smug voice has Steve wondering if decking his brother in detention would be worth the next five detentions he’d get if he does so.

The image of their mother looking at him with disappointment crosses his head so he grinds his teeth together and greets him his brother with a curt, “Ransom.”

“Been a while since I’ve seen you in detention,” Ransom continues. “What was it? Second grade? Third grade?”

“Fourth.”

“Ah. Yes. Fourth. Must've been a streak. Shame it ended.” He saunters around Steve, reaching for Steve's detention slip. “So what’re you in for?”

Steve scowls, snatching his slip before Ransom could get his hands on it. “I’m sure you have some idea.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow. “Is it because you were late or some other fuckup? Because last I checked—”

“Now, now,” Mr. Blanc placates. “There’s no need to fight, especially over something like that.”

Annoyance flashes across Ransom's face for a split second before it disappears, replaced with a wide grin. “Hey, Mr. Blanc!” he exclaims. “How’s my favorite teacher doing?”

Despite the obvious sarcasm, Mr. Blanc turns his bright smile on him. “I’m doing quite well actually. What brings you here?”

Ransom doesn’t get to answer because the door swings open again, revealing—

“Tony?” Steve blurts out. “What’re you doing here?”

He tries to rack his brain for any recollection of Tony being in trouble. Nothing springs to mind.

Tony manages a wary smile. “I skipped Gym.”

Steve frowns. “Oh. Right. But why—”

“Ah,” Mr. Blanc interrupts. His eyes are trained on Ransom’s detention slip. “I was wondering when the two of you would succumb to your tension.”

“Succumb?” Tony asks at the same time Steve exclaims, “Tension?”

Mr. Blanc just smiles at both of them knowingly.

Ransom flashes a toothy grin, charged with glee. “I told you so,” he says, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve frowns as he watches his brother walk take residence at the back of the class. It doesn't make sense, what his brother just said. What'd he mean by that?

Steve turns around, about to question Tony when he does a double-take.

Tony looks as disheveled and ruined as he did the night before, his lips red, his hair a mess, and his T-shirt rumpled. And now that he looks at Ransom, he looks just as bad and—

 _Oh_ , he thinks numbly. _They made out again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also reblog this chapter on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/post/190346583261/the-less-i-know-the-better-chapter-two)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who requested for happiness for Steve this chapter (you know who you are), I'm so sorry.

Surprisingly, detention flies by pretty quickly. Steve can’t remember detention ever passing by so quickly. Though then again, his last detention was in fourth grade. He’s definitely not the best judge.

Not to mention the fact that he drifted off as soon as his head hit the desk, which also discounts him from ever having an opinion on detention ever.

A loud slam is what startles him awake. He jolts upwards, scrambling and almost falls off his seat if he didn’t manage to grip the edge of his desk at the last second.

“Wha—”

“Hey, you,” Bucky begins in a mock Norwegian accent. Or at least, what sounds like a Norwegian accent to Steve’s ears. The accent is a far cry from Thor and Loki’s but he supposes it’s a decent accent. There’s a toothy grin plastered over Bucky’s lips as he towers over Steve, his palm splayed on Steve’s desk. “You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the bor—”

“Very funny,” Steve grumbles. He sucks in a breath as he wipes the sleep from his eyes, mentally whiling his heartbeat to slow. “Detention’s over?”

Bucky nods, humming. “Everyone’s free from this hellhole for the day.” He pauses. “Everyone except me. I have detention tomorrow.”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

Bucky’s grin morphs into a sheepish smile. “I, uh, tried passing a note to you.”

Steve blinks.

Bucky blinks back.

“I was asleep.”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers matter-of-factly, “but I was trying to wake you up.”

“…Why?”

Steve gets a nonchalant shrug in response to that. “I was bored.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Of course. He takes a quick glance around him. Mr Blanc’s still at his desk, mouthing along to a song as he reads a book. Gwen Stacy’s in the middle of stuffing her books into her backpack as she chats with Miles Morales. Pietro Maximoff remains at the back of the class, quietly snoring.

The only two people that are missing from the classroom are Tony Stark and Ransom Rogers, who’re both nowhere to be—

Steve jumps to his feet in a flash, losing his balance for a split second.

Bucky startles, jerking backwards. “The hell—”

“Sorry,” Steve says hastily as he shoulders his backpack. “Gotta go.”

He shoots out of the room as fast as he can, ignoring the stares he has probably earned. He definitely woke up Pietro in the middle of his fumbling. But that’s the least of his worries.

What matters is getting to Tony and Ransom before they leave to wherever they’re going to.

Thankfully Steve doesn’t have to go far. He’s turning the second corner when he finds his best friend leaning against his locker, his brother facing him with his hand resting on the space over Tony’s head and they’re talking and they’re grinning in what looks like a playful—

Before he could comprehend the movement, he’s at Tony’s side in a flash.

Tony and Ransom whip their heads in his direction. Tony looks embarrassed, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Ransom’s amused, his lips quirk to the side.

“Um. Hey.”

Tony frowns, a puzzled look flashing over his face. “Hi?”

Steve gnaws at his bottom lip. All of a sudden, he feels like the biggest idiot in the universe.

He doesn’t even know why he needed to find them, let alone approach them. It’s like his brain switched to autopilot once he realized Tony and Ransom weren’t around, jumping to the idea that the two of them might’ve left together.

Not that it’s a guarantee, even. They could’ve left separately since Tony’s always eager to return to his workshop and Ransom’s probably going to bother some poor innocent soul—

“Jeez, Mr Uptight. What’s with the fists?”

Steve’s attention snaps towards his hands. In the midst of his musing, his fingers had involuntarily dug into his palm. He uncurls them.

“C’mon, man. Just lay off him for a bit,” Tony says, an edge of defensiveness in his tone. His features soften as he switches his attention back to Steve. “Need something?”

A scowl flickers over Ransom’s lips. Steve feels the tension easing out of his body at that.

“I was just… Can we talk?”

He almost moves to bury his face in his hands.

Talk? Talk about what? What the hell is there to talk about? That Tony’s sort-of, maybe, kinda dating Steve’s twin brother? Or at least pining over him?

Tony blinks, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. His gaze darts from Steve to Ransom and since when does Tony seek any form of confirmation or acceptance from _Ransom_ of all people?

Just like that, the brief feeling of joy eases out of Steve.

Ransom smirks. “Right,” he says, clasping his hands together. “I think it’s time for me to bow out for the moment.”

 _Or forever_ , Steve’s brain adds. He almost punches himself for that. Ransom’s still his brother at the end of the day. No matter how obnoxious he can be or that Tony and him could be sharing a secret relationship—

“—forward to Friday.”

Sudden dread washes over Steve.

_Friday? The fuck is happening on Fri—_

“Yeah,” Tony answers, oblivious to Steve’s turbulent brain. A soft smile graces his lips. Steve has to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t imagine it. Then again, why the hell would he imagine such a thing? “I’ll see you then.”

Ransom snorts. “You know you’ll be seeing me tomorrow in class, right?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, you asshole,” he says, a hint of playfulness in his tone, similar to last night at the dinner table.

Steve secretly pinches his side to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

Ransom flashes Tony one last grin before he saunters away, slowing his gait down when he passes Bucky who’s coming to a stop behind Steve.

“Barnes,” he greets airily.

“Rogers,” Bucky grits out.

Bucky’s scowl doesn’t leave his face until Ransom disappears, leaving the three of them alone in the corridor.

“The fuck was that?” he demands as he strides over.

“What?” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You and Ransom.”

For a split second, a flash of panic crosses Tony’s eyes before schooling into a passive expression.

“I heard you guys—”

“You said you wanted to talk?” Tony interrupts, his gaze drifting back to Steve. Steve likes to think that he knows Tony long enough to see through his mask and to know what to do to make sure he’d take it off as soon as possible.

“Bucky—” Steve begins.

Bucky rolls his eyes, throwing his hands in the air. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, already turning away. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

* * *

Since Steve barely ate lunch (Tony too, no matter how much he wants to deny it), Tony drags him to their usual pizzeria and ordering their usual – a sixteen-inch pizza topped with pepperoni on one side, sausages, pineapple, and olives on the other.

Tony wrinkles his nose as Steve picks up his first slice. “Have I mentioned that pineapple on pizza is blasphemy? The Italian in me is quaking.”

Steve grunts, taking a large bite. “Says the Italian eating _pepperoni_ pizza.”

“Touche.” Tony pauses. “So.”

Steve tilts his head to the side. “What?”

“You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

Tony’s drumming his fingers on the table, his eyes glued to the pie in front of him. He looks exhausted like he usually does when he’s in his engineering mode, which is almost all the time. Right now, Tony’s not only tired but also…nervous? Steve hasn’t seen him this nervous in a long time.

Plus, Tony hasn’t touched the pizza. Tony loves pizza, especially pepperoni ones. He’ll always be the first person to snatch a slice.

“Uh. Right. Yeah.”

He chews slowly, trying to gather whatever courage in him.

Well, he might as well just say it. Get it out of his system. All he’s going to do ask Tony if he’s in a secret relationship with his brother and—

“How did you end up in detention?”

—what the fuck did he just say?

Tony seems to share his sentiments, blinking rapidly at him. “ _That’s_ what you wanted to ask me?”

“No,” Steve answers hurriedly. “I mean, I am curious but you know. That’s not the point. But uh, I just— Um.” He almost slaps his mouth with his greasy right hand, switching to the other at the last second. “It’s not just that.”

“Right,” Tony says, unconvinced.

An awkward silence falls over them, the booming music above their heads filling in for them. Steve can’t place the song, only that the singer shouldn’t bother hitting the high note, Jesus Christ.

“Principal Fury found Ransom and me, uh…” Tony ducks his head as he snaps his fingers. “We were, um… We were making out. In the janitor’s closet.”

All of a sudden, Steve feels numb. The pizza almost slips off his fingers.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another bout of silence stretches on. The singer keeps shrieking over the pulsating beat.

“During Gym, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains things,” Steve says teasingly. Or at least, tries to attempt to sound playful since Tony manages a weak smile. He hides his embarrassment by polishing off the slice in his hand.

Above them, the song has changed to Mr Brightside which is both a blessing and a curse.

“In the janitor’s closet?”

“I needed to talk to him. That’s the first place that popped into my head.”

Steve’s tempted to question Tony on the talk. But whatever Tony needed to discuss with his brother is between them. As much as he hates the idea of secrets involving Tony and Ransom (why, he has no inkling), he has to respect their privacy.

“And the kissing?” he asks instead, fingering at a stray piece of olive on his plate.

Tony zeros in on the movement. “The kissing just…happened. We were talking and then well, things… Things happened.”

They were talking? What were they talking about to justify locking themselves up in the janitor’s closet of all places?

“So, um, what’s the other—”

“I’m fine,” Steve blurts out, instantly regretting his words.

If only the ground could swallow him up.

“Fine?” Tony echoes, cocking an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess you don’t look like you’re gonna pass out anymore which is good and—” 

“The kiss,” Steve says hurriedly. “Yesterday’s kiss. And I guess today’s too. I’m okay with it.”

Tony whips his head up so fast, Steve’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.

“I mean, Ransom said you guys were caught up in the moment. It’s not like you guys were… You know…”

“Having sex?” Tony tentatively offers.

Just the mention of it sends shudders down Steve’s spine.

“No. I mean, yes! I mean, it was just a one-time. Well, two-time thing. I mean, it’s not like it’s gonna happen again and fuck, I’m rambling and—”

“I’m going on a date with Ransom.”

And just like that, his world is turned upside down again.

“Wha—” Steve clears his throat. “What did you say?”

Tony pins him with a look that’s both exasperated and uncertain. “You know what I said.”

Oh, Steve definitely did. But he has to have misheard this time? He has to. There’s no way Tony would’ve agreed to something as stupid and insane like accepting a date with Ransom Rogers. He couldn’t—

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” he says carefully, his heart banging against his rib cage, “but it sounds like you said Ransom asked you out.”

“Technically, _I_ asked him out. But yeah.”

Steve’s stomach plummets. And there goes his barely existing appetite.

“Tony—”

“Steve—”

“Wait, wait. Let me just—” His eyes flicker shut as he sucks in a breath, trying to clear his reeling head because _what the fuck?_ “Let me get this straight. You asked Ransom out on a date. Ransom? Ransom Rogers? My brother?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, pausing his tapping. “Any other guy you know named Ransom?”

“Technically that's his middle name so…”

“ _Steve_.” 

In spite of everything, a soft chuckle rumbles through his body. “And he said…”

“He said yes.”

Of course. Of course, he did. Why did Steve even bother asking in the first place? Ransom wouldn’t waste any time trying to get under Steve’s skin and ruin his friendship with Tony and—

And it doesn’t make any sense. Maybe if the last couple of months hadn’t happened, Steve wouldn’t feel as confused as he does right now.

“But you hate him.”

Tony scoffs. “I don’t hate him.”

“You punched him when you first met,” Steve deadpans.

“Because he insulted you! Plus, that was like, what? Second grade? We haven’t decked each other since.”

“You called him a sweater-loving hobo yesterday.”

_And proceeded to make out with him. On two separate occasions._

Tony takes a long sip from his glass of soda. “That’s barely an insult.”

“And then proceeded to get into a shouting match with him for ten minutes about sweaters.”

“Still not an insult.”

Steve sighs, wiping the grease off his fingers with a paper napkin. “In the middle of said fighting match, you threw out the words, ‘arrogant asshat’, ‘dickhead’, ‘a piece of shit’, and ‘the reason why the middle finger was created’.”

Tony’s lips quirk to the side. “Not my finest insults.”

“Not the point, Tony.”

Tony sets his glass down to finally pick up a slice of pepperoni. Steve counts it as a win, as awful and weird as this conversation is.

“Okay, fine. So I might not like the guy a whole lot,” he says as he takes a bite. “But I just… I don’t know. I guess he can be charming. Sometimes.”

Steve stares at him in disbelief. Tony has never made out or gone on dates with people he hates just because they were charming to him once or twice.

The whole thing doesn’t sit right to Steve. Ransom has never hinted on his interest in Tony. Sure, it could be a recent development but then—

“You asked him out.”

Tony nods as he swallows. “I did.”

“Ransom Rogers.”

Tony hums in confirmation.

“You asked my brother out.”

“Yes, Steve,” Tony says, his jaw clenching. “I asked your brother out. Is that a problem?”

He should say no, there isn’t anything wrong because why would he give—

“Yes.”

Tony flinches, his half-eaten slice dropping onto his plate at the same time Brandon Flowers finishes wailing.

“Wow,” he breathes, sounding wounded and furious at the same time.

Shame and regret wash over Steve. “I—”

“Look, just because I’m not good enough for you—”

“You’re good enough for me.”

Tony’s eyes widen as if he’s been slapped across the face. His building rage doused, just like that.

Steve’s cheeks warm. “And you’re good enough for Ransom too,” he quickly adds. “I’m just saying that Ransom isn’t… He’s not great. Not a great guy. I mean, as a date. Boyfriend. Yeah.”

Tony’s quiet for a long second. “You think he’s just trying to get in my pants?”

Steve sucks in a breath before nodding slowly.

Don’t get him wrong. As much as he complains and argues and curses, Steve does love his brother. He’s his twin brother, after all.

But if Ransom’s trying to rope Tony in his schemes to get back at Steve for no reason whatsoever, well, Steve can’t let this slide.

At all.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Tony schools his features back to a neutral expression. Steve hates it he’s doing it in front of him and especially because of him. “One way to find out.”

“Tony.”

“It’s just a date. I mean, sure. I might end up sleeping with him—” 

“Tony!”

Tony’s lips twitch in amusement, a crack in his mask. “—but I won’t because of the bro code and all that.”

Steve knows it’s a joke but if Tony even cared about the so-called bro code, he wouldn’t have asked Ransom out in the first place.

He exhales. “I’m just worried.”

Tony softens, his mask falling away. “I’ll be fine. Ransom’s harmless. You’re acting like I’m gonna marry the guy tomorrow.”

God, Steve can’t describe the immense relief that courses through him when he remembers that isn’t possible for the moment.

“Still.”

Tony chews on the crust. “For all we know, I’d end up the asshole of the night.”

“You won’t be,” Steve answers automatically.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insists. “You always treat your dates right.”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Nah.”

“You really do. Remember when you bought Pepper twenty bouquets of roses?”

“As an apology for forgetting our anniversary?”

“Or the time you bought tickets to Norway for Thor because he was feeling homesick?”

“After I missed his game with—”

“The point is,” Steve stresses, “you care. You really do care and you try your best to do better. Ransom doesn’t and I’m just afraid he’d...”

_I’m just afraid you’ll give his heart to him because you fall in love way too easily and quickly and he’d probably break your heart like—_

Tony sighs. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy now.”

“I know.”

They polish the rest of the pie in silence. It feels like an eternity.

“It’s not like I can stop you in the first place,” Steve says quietly. “I’m not your dad.”

Tony snorts, dabbing the grease off his fingers. “Even if you’re my dad, I’d still go behind your back.”

For an unknown reason, Steve’s heart sinks at that. It could be the rebellion in Tony talking. But who would be desperate enough to defy rules to make out with someone you don’t hold a torch for?

Suddenly, the mix of pizza and lemonade doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

Tony must’ve mistaken Steve’s discomfort with dissatisfaction because he asks, “Would it make you happy if I let you kick his ass if he’s an asshole?”

“I’d kick his ass even without your permission,” Steve admits. “Scout’s honour.”

Tony snorts. “You’re not a scout.”

“You always call me a boy scout.”

“True,” Tony allows. He drains his glass, setting it down as a content sigh. “You’re an honorary boy scout. A boy scout in spirit.”

“I’m honoured, Not-Scoutmaster,” Steve says drily.

Tony smirks. “My pleasure, Not-Boy Scout.”

Steve finds himself chortling around his glass of lemonade. At least, for the moment, he could pretend that everything’s okay between them.

* * *

Friday can’t come soon enough and before Steve knows it, he’s sprawled across Tony’s bed, impatiently waiting for Tony to emerge from the bathroom.

Usually, he wouldn’t be sticking around for Tony’s date preparations. That’s Natasha or Carol’s jobs. But Tony had insisted that Steve keep the whole Ransom-date thing a secret from their friends and begged for Steve to help him out for his date. And when Tony Stark begs for your help, you must agree. It’s practically law. Even if isn’t, Steve doesn’t have the willpower to resist.

There’s a part of Steve that wonders about the reason behind the secrecy. Tony’s always open about the dates he’d go on with other people.

But then he remembers that Tony’s going on a date with the guy all of their friends loathe.

“Are you taking a shit in there?” Steve calls as he continues sketching out Tony’s room. “You’ve been in there for an hour already.”

“It hasn’t been an hour, you asshole,” Tony hollers back. Steve couldn’t help but grin at that. “Sides’, it’s a date.”

“A date with Ransom,” Steve reminds.

“Still a date, nonetheless,” Tony answers. “Looking pretty takes time, you know? Sides’, be glad none of the girls is here because I’d be here for two hours.”

The bathroom door opens and Steve exhales.

“Finally,” he says, lifting his head upwards. “What the hell were you—”

His words die on his throat at the sight of Tony because…

Because…

It’s not something Steve hasn’t seen before. He’s seen the leather jacket, the band T-shirt, the ripped jeans. He’s seen Tony’s usual mop tamed and he’s seen the eyeliner that brings out the faint shade of hazel in his brown eyes.

But for some unexplainable reason, Steve can’t help but stare. And it’s not just his eyes that’s reacting. His whole body is taunt and buzzing.

Tony flashes him a cocky smirk. “How do I look?” he asks, twirling on the spot.

Steve blinks rapidly, trying to kick himself back into gear and make a point to not look at his ass because… No.

He clamps his jaw shut for a moment, not realizing it had even dropped. “You look… Uh… Wow.”

The smugness wanes. Tony runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little. “Do I look that bad?”

“No!” Steve exclaims. “Not at all. You look— You look— Um. Wow.”

_Smooth. Smooth as always, Rogers._

Colour blooms over Tony’s cheeks. He fingers at the collar of his jacket, his eyes darting to the floor. “Great. That’s really great. Hope Ransom likes the outfit as much as you do.”

Steve feels like he’s been doused in iced water at the mention of his brother. As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Tony calls.

A familiar head pokes inside the room.

“Anthony?” Jarvis begins. “Mr Rogers has arrived.”

Tony blinks, a flash of panic flickering over his face. “Okay. Wow. He’s early. Okay. Damn.”

“Surprisingly,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“Okay, J. Could you tell him I’ll be down in a bit?”

“Of course,” Jarvis says as he shuts the door behind him.

Tony sucks in a breath as he drops down on the bed next to Steve, a couple of inches of space separating the both of them. Steve finds his body stiffening further and fuck, did his dick just—

“Wow,” Tony exhales next to him. “Holy wow. Okay. Wow. Is it weird that I’m nervous? Because I am.”

Steve reins himself in. This is not the time to feel…off. Tony needs him.

“It’ll be okay, Tony. You’ll be okay.”

Tony nods frantically, running his fingers through his hair again. A small part of Steve approves. A messier hairstyle suits Tony better. “What if he doesn’t like it? What if he thinks I look stupid or—”

Steve tries his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 _Is Tony like this with all his dates?_ he wonders. _Do Nat and Carol have to comfort him too?_

Steve snorts. “Please. He wears sweaters ninety-nine percent of the time. He has no right to judge.” He gingerly slips a hand in Tony’s, offering a comforting squeeze. “He’d have to be blind to not see how good you look.”

Tony stares at him as if Steve has just hung the stars in the sky for him. It’s both unsettling and exhilarating.

Steve’s words must’ve done the trick because Tony’s trembling smile smoothens. “Really?”

Steve nods. “Really.”

The smile Tony sends his way this time is confident and blinding. “Then, what’re we waiting for?”

As expected, Ransom’s in the all-too large living room, too busy rattling about the décor to poor Jarvis who looks ready to strangle Ransom. Steve doesn’t blame him one bit.

Jarvis looks relieved at the sight of Steve and Tony. “Anthony, Mr Rogers. Your—”

“For the last time, J, you gotta be more specific,” Ransom says, obnoxious as ever. He’s dressed like he usually does on dates during colder weather – a sweater underneath his ever-trusty coat, slacks, and boots. This time, his sweater’s a light grey. “We’re both Mr Rogers. You gotta be on a first-name basis with us. With Steve, anyway. Second-basis with me.” His eyes drift to Tony and he freezes.

Steve cocks an eyebrow, the urge to protect overwhelming him. Tony shuffles his feet.

“Wow,” Ransom breathes out, his lips parted. “The Northern Lights got nothing on you.”

It could be the lighting or Steve’s eyes playing tricks on him but he swears Ransom’s cheeks are a bright red. So is Tony’s.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Tony says, giving Steve’s brother a once-over.

Ransom’s grin widens. “That’s a big compliment coming from you.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony leers, a crooked grin on. There are no traces of his nerves evident on his face. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Looking forward to them. Well, I think we—”

“Wait,” Steve blurts out. “Mind if I borrow Ransom for a sec?”

Tony’s eyes narrow. Knowing him, he probably has some idea on what Steve’s about to do. “I’ll wait for you at the front.”

Steve waits for Tony and Jarvis to be out of earshot before he grits his teeth and crosses his arms in front of him.

“Remember what we talked about?”

Ransom rolls his eyes as he picks up a figurine of a deer off the coffee table. Steve’s certain it costs fifty times more than his ugly sweater. “Don’t worry, Pops. I won’t fuck him in the backseat without—”

“ _Ransom_.”

Ransom holds out a hand out as he sets the deer back down. “Calm down, boomer. I was joking.”

“I mean it. If you do anything, I mean, _anything_ Tony doesn’t like—”

“You’ll be up my ass, yeah, yeah.” Ransom’s eyebrows knit together. “Am I the only one being given the shovel talk? Because that’s just unfair. I’m your brother.”

“Tony has never been a dick to his dates.”

“I mean, he did punch me,” Ransom points out. Steve opens his mouth. “Sure, that wasn’t a date but he was still a dick.”

“Because you were being a dick to me. He was trying to defend me.” Steve sighs heavily, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I still can’t believe Tony’s letting you take him out.”

“Technically, he asked me out. So.”

“Fine. I can’t believe _he_ asked _you_ out.”

Ransom grins, making him look like a bigger douche. “Well, I am quite a looker.”

Steve huffs in response. “We’re identical twins.”

“Exactly.”

Steve stiffens. And there he is with his cryptic bullshit and implications.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you do,” Ransom makes his move for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a date to get to.”

“I’m serious,” Steve says, following after him. “You mess with Tony—”

“You’ll stab me in the gut and toss me over the Brooklyn Bridge. I know.”

Tony and Jarvis pause their quiet discussion when they see the both of them approach. If they overheard Steve and Ransom’s talk, neither of them give any indication they do.

“Well,” Tony begins, “about time we get going.”

“Yup,” Ransom says cheerily. He winks at Jarvis and Steve in turn. “Don’t worry. I’ll have him back by ten.”

This time, Steve catches himself balling his fists.

Tony manages a small wave. “See you guys later.”

“Have a wonderful evening, Anthony,” Jarvis says politely.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his mouth dry. “Have a good time. Both of you.”

Tony watches him with an odd look. He looks like he’s about to say something but he wordlessly turns away and takes Ransom’s offered arm.

Steve can’t remember the last time Ransom was this charming with his dates. Then again, he usually steered clear of his brother’s disastrous love life.

Maybe Tony’s right about the charming thing. But Ransom could charm the pants out of god for all he cares and it’ll still wouldn’t settle the unease Steve feels.

Watching them walk away takes him back to that night he found them tangled up. The same sense of coldness washes over him. The same set of emotions seep into his heart. The same—

“Mr Rogers?” Jarvis begins, snapping Steve out of his reverie. He’s watching him with a look that resembles pity, which doesn’t make sense. “I’ve prepared dinner. You’re welcome to join me.”

Steve nods, mustering the widest smile he could do. “Of course.”

He spends the next hour catching up with Jarvis over risotto. Even as a kid, Steve has been close to Jarvis. He always provides great conversation and food. Above all, he’s Tony’s father figure. Steve will always be grateful for that.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Jarvis asks as Steve helps him with the dishes. “You’re not obligated to answer if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Steve pauses his wiping, droplets trailing down the plate in his grasp. “Sure.”

“Do you think your brother’s intentions with Anthony are true?”

Steve sighs inwardly. That’s the trillion dollar question he’d like the answer to.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” he replies truthfully. “But I hope they are.”

Jarvis watches him with a studious gaze. It’s unnerving. “I as well.”

After that, Steve excuses himself up to one of the hundred guest rooms in the mansion, which he usually takes up residence whenever he stays over at Tony’s. At this point, Steve might as well call it his since he’s been using the same room since they were kids. He even has made it his own too, pinning his sketches to the walls and unread novels stacked on the desk.

As he pulls out his homework, he couldn’t help but wonder about Ransom and Tony.

They’re probably having dinner right now, talking about anything and nothing between mouthfuls. Or maybe they’ve decided to take a stroll in the park where Ransom could keep Tony on his arm. Maybe the cinema where they could share a tub of popcorn, their fingers brushing as they grow closer and—

Steve groans. He should stop thinking about them. It’s just a date. He’s seen them gone on dates multiple times. He wasn’t as bothered as he was all those times. Why now?

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Usually when Steve’s going through a crisis, the first person he’d go to would be Tony, which won’t happen anytime soon. The next would be his mother but his mother’s on shift and the last thing he wants to do os get her reprimanded on the job.

So he chooses the next best person.

_Steve: Please kill me._

He gets his answer a minute later.

_Bucky: Something happened?_

Steve’s about to type out his response when he remembers. As much as he’s dying to open up, he can’t. He promised Tony.

_Steve: I just did something dumb._

_Bucky: Dumb how?_

_Bucky: You let your brother ask Tony out?_

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that.

His friends never fail to remind him about how oblivious he can be when it comes to love and relationships. Hell, he didn’t realize Natasha and Sharon were dating until Natasha kissed Sharon goodbye before Sharon moved to Washington DC. At the time, they were dating for five months.

Maybe Tony has always held a torch for Ransom. Or Ransom for Tony. And Steve, being a dumbass, never realized.

But if Tony’s nursing a crush on Ransom, that doesn’t explain—

_Steve: Something as bad as that._

He tosses his phone onto his bed, resolving to ignore it for the rest of the night. Knowing how persistent Bucky would be, he’ll have a thousand unread messages by the end of the night, a thousand messages Steve isn’t in the mood to read or answer.

But since Steve could never resist a good surprise, he checks his phone a second later.

_Bucky: What?_

_Bucky: He told you he’s in love with you and you turned him down again?_

Steve takes that as a sign to lay off his phone for the rest of the night. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, I'm on [Tumblr](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kapteniron) now so you're welcome to yell at me on those platforms too. XD
> 
> You can also reblog this chapter on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/post/190608860241/the-less-i-know-the-better-chapter-three)!
> 
> Also, to those who play video games, there's like a Skyrim reference here because I couldn't resist lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this later than usual. Things had been pretty rough. But your kudos and comments have been a joy to read.
> 
> As per request, I'm posting this a day early. So enjoy!

The next several hours end up being one of the most agonizing moments Steve has ever endured in his life.

Steve knows he’s being stupid. Dumb. Overdramatic. After all, it’s normal for Steve to fail to complete his Algebra homework without help. So is not being able to sketch a single line out on his sketchbook. Creative blocks happen.

But the thing is, his train of thought keeps trailing off to weird places – like Ransom and Tony cuddling and whispering sweet nothings during an action scene in the cinema, of Ransom and Tony playing footsie under the table at the Thai place several blocks away, of Ransom and Tony strolling down the street with their fingers intertwined, of Ransom and Tony in the back of Ransom’s car—

And the most frustrating thing is that he shouldn’t even be sparing them a thought and especially not for the past couple of hours.

It’s not like it’s illegal for them to go on a date, or even be romantically interested in each other. They’re the same age. They’re not related. They’re not doing this against their will (he hopes). They have the right to go on a date, even if they supposedly hate each other’s guts, even if one of them is his twin brother and the other his best friend. 

Besides, the three of them know Steve would kick his brother’s ass if anything happens to Tony. So everything should be good.

So why can’t he stop thinking of them curling up, heads bent together, their fingers brushing and—

Steve shuts his sketchbook loudly. “Get a grip, Rogers,” he mutters before returning to his homework, determined to distract his wandering thoughts.

By the time Steve has finished his last equation (god, he’s so screwed on Monday), it’s a couple of minutes past eleven. Which makes Ransom and Tony sixty-two minutes late.

This shouldn’t surprise Steve. Ransom’s usually out longer than he should when he’s out on dates. Not to mention the fact that Ransom lies like breathing.

But a tight heat curls in Steve’s chest at the thought of his brother. He said he’d have Tony back by ten and Tony shouldn’t have asked Ransom out and Steve—

And Steve isn’t Tony’s guardian. What they’re doing right now is none of Steve’s business. Ransom was just making a stupid joke that Steve took to heart for the thousandth time. He should just turn in for the night and talk to Tony in the morning and ask what took him so long to—

“I’m an idiot,” Steve mumbles into his palm. “A total fucking idiot.”

 _Good to know you’re aware of it_ , a voice snarks in his head. It sounds suspiciously like his. Or Ransom’s. Most likely Ransom’s.

Pushing his thoughts away, Steve takes a quick shower, dons an old T-shirt and pyjama pants, and pads down to the living room with his sketchbook and pencil. Maybe a change of scenery would help with his head.

At some point, he must’ve drifted off. One moment, he’s curled up on the couch, forcing his brain to focus. The next, his eyelids flutter at the sudden weight being dropped on top of his sprawled body.

“Shit,” he hears someone mutter. “I—”

Whoever it is sounds safe and warm and welcoming like Tony. It might be him. Steve’s too sleepy to bother to figure out who.

“S’fine,” he slurs, wrapping his arms around the weight. It’s warm and welcoming and squishy and fuck, they smell like coffee and mint with a hint of metal.

Just like Tony does after a shower and brushing his teeth.

Safe and warm and welcoming just like Tony.

In his drowsy haze, Steve reaches to pull the person closer, to wrap his arms around them and god, they’re so warm—

“Steve—”

“Go back to sleep.”

“But—”

Steve hushes. “Sleep.”

“Are you drunk?” maybe-Tony asks but Steve drifts off before he could reply.

The next time Steve wakes, it’s to a sudden snort and sunlight filtering through the drapes. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize that the snort isn’t coming from him when he feels another rumble against his chest and the faint scent of coffee, mint and—

Stray curls tickle Steve’s lips. He would’ve sat upright if he hasn’t noticed his arms wrapped around Tony’s form. Tony, in turn, has his head tucked under Steve’s chin, a palm splayed over Steve’s heart. Hopefully, Tony doesn’t notice the sudden skip underneath his hand.

Steve can’t remember the last time they’ve slept this way. Probably a couple years ago when Tony’s father found them in a similar manner in Tony’s workshop. Steve’s still not allowed over whenever Howard’s in the city.

Sucking in a deep breath, Steve carefully tries to manoeuvre out of the embrace without rousing Tony. Fortunately, Tony doesn’t seem to notice the absence of Steve’s body. With his eyes still closed, he turns onto his stomach, nuzzles his face into the couch, and lets out a muffled snore.

Without any hesitation, Steve plucks his sketchbook and pencil off the floor and settles on the adjacent love seat, determined to immortalize the moment on paper.

Tony isn’t dressed in the same clothes he left in, a plain tank top and sweatpants, both rumpled. His hair is a wild mess, curls sticking out in every direction, the longer strands curtaining his eyes. There’s something about the sight that makes Steve’s stomach stir but it’s gone before he could figure it out what it is.

Maybe it’s just his curiosity at Tony’s motives on falling asleep on Steve. After all, Tony has a king-sized bed waiting for him upstairs. He didn’t need to sleep on the couch, let alone on top of Steve.

Or it could’ve been an accident. Maybe Tony tripped over his feet and fell on top of him. And sleep-addled Steve who always had problems with the cold latched onto the warmest source he could find.

Or maybe, Tony had a shitty date and needed comfort from Steve. After all, they always cuddle whenever one of them felt down ever since they were kids. That’s probably the most likely, considering Ransom’s a huge dick and—

Or maybe, just maybe, Steve’s just overthinking things. Maybe Tony was just exhausted after a long fun night and he saw the first surface that won’t give him neck problems the day after and—

A noise that sounds like a dying whale snaps him out of his thoughts.

Tony’s now sitting up watching Steve with bleary eyes.

“Seriously?” he croaks before he lets out a soft yawn.

Steve chuckles, feeling like he’s been caught red-handed. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Tony lets out a grunt. “Don’t show this to anyone.”

“No promises.”

Tony huffs. “I’ll let it slide if you get my coffee right now.”

“You’re bossy this morning,” Steve says teasingly as he sets his sketch aside.

Jarvis is nowhere to be found, not even the kitchen but there are two covered trays on the dining table and coffee’s still warm in the pot, signs that he had just left. 

Even on his off-day, Jarvis never fails to mother hen Tony. Not that Steve’s complaining. It’s nice to know there’s someone else who cares about Tony’s wellbeing.

Speaking of Tony, does Jarvis know Tony and Steve slept on the couch? Does Jarvis even know Tony’s home? He has to if he made two servings. But why would he leave Tony sleeping uncomfortably on the couch when there are at least twenty beds upstairs?

Steve’s dwelling is cut short when Tony shuffles into view, slumping into the nearest seat. He extends his arms, his fingers wiggling at the coffee pot in Steve’s grasp.

“Gimme.”

Steve pulls the pot away. “Not until you have breakfast.”

Tony snorts. “Breakfast. As if you can make breakfast.”

“I can make a mean cereal,” Steve says defensively.

“So can I, Rogers. Nothing to—” A yawn cuts him off. “Nothing to brag about.” He lifts the lid of the tray, brightening at the sight of the omelette and hash browns on his plate. “Thank god for Jarvis. Otherwise, the mansion would’ve been in flames by now. Now gimme.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he moves to grab them both mugs – a red and gold with a black cat emblazoned on the front for Tony and a plain blue one for Steve. Neither of them are morning people but Tony seems to have a worse reaction to mornings. Steve chalks it up to his unhealthy binges in the workshop.

Tony downs the whole mug in a couple of gulps. To this day, it still astounds Steve that Tony could drink scalding black coffee without a reaction. His friends even have an ongoing bet on whether Tony had burned off his pain receptors.

“So,” Tony begins, sounding much brighter than he did before. _The magic of coffee_ , Steve supposes, “spit it out.”

Steve frowns. “Spit what out?”

“You’ve been twitching ever since I woke up. Maybe you’ve been twitching before then. You do that when you have something you wanna say but you think you shouldn’t so you bottle it up.”

A sheepish smile creeps up Steve’s lips. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’ve known you since we were kids. ‘Course I know every tick of yours.” Tony holds out his mug, prompting Steve to refill it. “I was actually waiting for one of the girls to bombard me with texts. But then I remembered that I haven’t told anyone.”

“Well,” Steve nudges him with his foot under the table, “spill.”

Tony cocks an eyebrow as he responds back. Briefly, Steve wonders if this was how dinner was like between Tony and his brother, kicking one another under the table. Or maybe Tony let Ransom’s foot trail higher and higher and—

“What are you? Twelve?”

“You’re the one who told me to spit my question out. Your turn to spit.”

Tony waggles his eyebrows. “You asked for it,” he says before hawking.

Steve jerks backwards, yanking his tray along with him. “Tony!”

Tony snickers, swallowing his saliva down. “Spoilsport.” He pauses to slip a forkful of eggs between his lips, his playful grin morphing into something shyer. “Honestly? It was actually better than I expected.”

Steve feels himself deflate. “It was?”

“Yeah.” Tony shifts, rubbing the nape of his neck and is he blushing? “I mean, we didn’t do much. Just grabbed some sandwiches at Delmar’s.”

Steve couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. He can’t picture Ransom willingly eating at Delmar’s. It doesn’t seem like his kind of place.

Well, at least it isn’t Wade’s. Wade’s is Steve and Tony’s place and no one else’s.

“I thought you’d choose Burger King,” Steve teases.

“Shut up,” Tony says without any malice. “It was one-time.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we just ate and talked. And talked. And talked. And…” He frowns as he trails away, setting his fork down on his plate with a loud clatter.

“And talked?” Steve offers, forking a piece of omelette into his mouth. An explosion of flavours greets his tongue. Steve chews languidly, savouring it. Jarvis is up there with his mother as the best cooks around.

Tony nods slowly, a thoughtful look passing over his face. “Yeah,” he replies, sounding distracted. “Yeah. Talked. You wanna know something weird?”

“What?”

He exhales deeply. “I didn’t think it’d be so easy. Talking to him. I mean, not to say that we don’t talk but I don’t know… We just talked and it felt like…” He shakes his head, fingering the handle of his mug. “I know it’s going to some stupid but it felt like we’ve been friends for years. It just felt so easy when it shouldn’t.”

“I mean,” Steve begins, staring down at his plate, his hunger escaping him by the second. “I did say you guys would get along.”

“I know. But I… It’s just weird. I mean before last night, all we’ve said to each other are either insults, passive-aggressive flirting, and Physics formulas. But there I was, eating sandwiches with Ransom Rogers and talking about our favourite Harlan Drysdale novels and I just—” Tony’s brow creases. “I didn’t know your brother was into mystery novels.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. He likes mysteries. Harlan Drysdale’s one of his favourite authors.”

“Yeah,” Tony echoes. A quiet exhale falls out his lips, faint frustration colouring his words. “I don’t know. It was so surreal. Being there…”

“In a good way?”

“In a good way.”

They lapse into silence as they return to their meal, save for the occasional clink of cutlery. For an instance, Steve could actually picture this as an ordinary Saturday morning in with Tony, that they actually spent last night hanging out without the thought of Ransom tainting the moment.

Almost.

“Did you guys…?”

Tony glances up with his fork pointed in the air, a piece of potatoes wedged onto it. “What?”

Steve taps his index finger on the counter, his cheeks burning. “You know…”

Tony’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead. “What? Had sex?”

“No!” Steve exclaims, his face burning up. “I just… Forget about it.”

Tony must feel as embarrassed as Steve does since his face is a bright red. “Well… I mean, if you want to know. We did get kicked out of the place for making out too long and—”

Steve’s stomach churns. 

“Please spare me the details.”

Tony barks out a nervous laugh. “You did ask.”

“Still. Let’s just—” Steve makes another move for his own coffee, wincing as he takes a sip. He forgot to add milk. “Let’s not talk about it ever again.”

This time, the laugh Tony lets out is more organic, which settles Steve a little.

“So there you have it,” Tony says when they move to clear the counter minutes later. “We just stuff our faces with sandwiches, talked into the night, and scarred some customers by making out. Sorry if you wanted something juicier.”

“Please. I really don’t want to know anything my brother or my best friend get up to,” Steve replies as he wipes down a plate. “I just thought with how long you guys were out for…”

Tony almost drops the dripping mug in his grip. “Just lost track of time, is all.”

A part of Steve feels like he’s not telling the whole truth. But since it’s none of his business, he doesn’t point it out. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You’re not mad? Or weirded out?”

“I told you. I’m fine with it,” Steve assures, mustering as much sincerity in his words as he can. “I mean, it’s a one-time thing. Not like you guys are going out again, right?”

Tony’s smile fades as he snaps his head back to the sink. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Steve doesn’t like the implication of that.

“Are you guys going out again?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can.

Tony doesn’t answer for a while, focused on his task. “Don’t know,” Tony finally replies, holding out his wet mug. “Said he’d call me later.”

Steve plucks it out of Tony’s grip. “Do you actually want to go out with him again?”

Tony’s eyes tentatively meet his. “Is it weird that I do?”

 _Yes_ , Steve thinks. _Because you and Ransom together don’t make any sense._

“Of course not.”

“What about the bro code?”

Steve scoffs. “You wouldn’t have asked him out if you cared about that.”

“Then, what about the fact I’m tutoring Ransom? I mean, wouldn’t it be weird for me to go on a date with him while I’m still tutoring him?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “You do know, you’re not obliged to go on a second date, right? If Ransom refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer, I can—”

“I don’t feel obliged,” Tony interrupts. He heaves a sigh. “I just… I guess… It was nice, you know? It’s been a while since… Since anyone wanted me that way. And to have Ransom of all people look and talk to me like he enjoyed my company and the fact _I_ enjoyed his company…”

Steve feels his heart shatter at that.

He’s well aware of Tony’s previous relationships – of how half of them crashed and burned because his partners were shitheads, the other half lost to distance, of helping Tony deal with the aftermath. Tony and heartbreak are not a pretty pair.

Especially considering Steve—

“Anyway,” Tony begins in a louder voice, interrupting Steve’s train of thought.

It doesn’t surprise him that Tony’s deflecting. As often as he wears his heart on his sleeve, he shuts down as quickly too.

He flashes Steve a smile that’s supposedly reassuring. It does the opposite.

“Enough doom and gloom. Let’s just—”

The thundering riffs coming from the living room jolts them both. Steve almost drops the mug he’s wiping down.

“Please tell me you’re gonna be changing that ringtone soon,” he groans. “I’d like to go through a day without having a heart attack.”

“Keep dreaming, Rogers,” Tony says sweetly as he rushes off, returning in a short moment. The grin on his lips wavers as his phone continues to screech in his grasp. “It’s Ransom.”

For the second time today, Steve almost breaks Tony’s precious mug.

Of course it’ll be him. Figures he’ll try to ruin his hangout with Tony with whatever he has planned.

“Take it then.”

Tony looks conflicted, glancing back and forth between his phone and Steve.

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve says, sounding far too exasperated to his ears than he should. He quickly clears his throat. “You’re not—”

“Nah, I can call him back later,” Tony says, as he mutes his phone and tosses it onto the counter. Steve winces at the clatter. “Because today is Saturday. And Saturday is our hangout day. We’re gonna be marathoning the fuck out of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ and ordering in takeout because we both suck at cooking. And we’re not going to bring up your brother or any of the dating shit or take any calls unless it’s an emergency because it’s a Saturday and on Saturdays, we only speak to each other and the delivery guy. Okay?”

Steve nods, relief washing over him. He should feel guilty that Tony would set aside everything for Steve, even a shot at happiness in his love life.

But he doesn’t and he can’t tell whether it’s telling that he doesn’t.

* * *

Usually when Ransom’s plans involve getting under Steve’s skin, he won’t hesitate to torment him until he cracks. For some reason, his brother seems to enjoy watching Steve break.

This time is no different.

As soon as Steve steps out of Happy’s car the next day, Ransom’s waiting at the door, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a wide smirk on his lips.

“So,” his brother begins when Steve’s in hearing range, “did Tony tell you how I managed to—”

After the amazing time he had with Tony, he’s not in the mood to give his brother a black eye. Or yell. So he Steve makes a snap decision to turn on his heel and head to the garage.

“The hell are you going?”

“Out!”

“Out where?” another voice calls from inside. Their mother. “You just got home!”

Steve sucks in a breath. Frankly, all he wants to do is lock himself up in his room, bury his face in his pillow, and pretend that his brother wouldn’t be lurking outside to gush about what a great kisser Tony is and what a gentleman he was on their date and—

“I’m meeting with Bucky and Sam for lunch!”

And that’s how he winds up at an ice-cream parlour on a Sunday noon with two of his best friends surrounded by screaming kids and cheap trap beats because his brother’s an idiot.

“Not that I’m complaining about free ice-cream,” Sam begins as he digs into his banana split. “But you never call us up for ice-cream.”

“Unless there’s a problem,” Bucky adds.

“Which you totally do,” Sam pipes up.

“What makes you think I do?” Steve inquires, jabbing at his usual ice-cream order – two scoops of butter pecan propped on a sugared wafer cup. “Maybe I miss you guys.”

Bucky and Sam exchange a knowing look. Steve hates it when they do that.

“You missed us,” Sam echoes slowly.

“Uh huh. I smell bullshit,” Bucky stabs his spoon in Steve’s direction, droplets of mint ice-cream flying through the air. “If you missed us, you would’ve answered the text I sent you on Friday instead of ignoring me until you decided that you need me and Sammie to help you through your midlife crisis. Yup, you definitely missed us.”

A groan almost slips out of his lips.

Right. The text he hasn’t replied since he got it.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Bucky told me you asked him to kill you. Wanna shed some light on the reason why you want my boyfriend to murder you?”

Bucky frowns. “Does this have to do with Tony tutoring Ransom?”

Steve blinks, the spoon almost slipping out of his hand. “How did you—”

“Carol told us. Which by the way, what the fuck, Steve?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Sam chimes in as he pins Steve with a scowl. “I thought we were friends.”

Bucky nods vigorously. “ _Best_ friends. I can’t believe you ditched us for Danvers—”

“First of all,” Steve cuts in, “Tony told her, not me. Second—”

“Still. You could’ve told us.”

Steve arches an eyebrow. “You do know that it’s none of your business, right?”

“True,” Bucky admits. He shoves a large helping of ice-cream into his mouth before wincing. “Fuck. Brain freeze.”

“Idiot,” Steve hears Sam mutter. He slices one of his bananas in half, depositing it onto Bucky’s sundae. 

Bucky flashes his boyfriend a grateful look as he focuses on the banana. “Still. I find it hard to believe that Tony would I thought they’re like sworn enemies or something.”

“You know Tony,” Steve says, chewing on his wafer. “He always likes a challenge.”

“And tutoring your brother is a challenge?” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Well, I call bullshit on that too. Either he has something up his sleeve, Ransom has something up his sleeve or they both have something up their sleeves.”

Sam scoffs. “Why the fuck would Ransom and Tony even team up?”

Bucky throws his hands up. “I don’t know! It’s just a guess.”

“A shitty one at that.”

“Not the point,” Bucky says. “The point is that Steve wanted me to kill him. C’mon, spit it out, Rogers.”

Steve takes the moment to dig into his ice-cream as he tries his best to ignore his friends’ expectant looks. As much as he’s dying to unload, he made a promise to Tony. And he’ll never break any of Tony’s promises, no matter how agonising and terrible they are.

“Just that Tony was tutoring him on Friday. Well, arguing. Loudly. I mean, you know them. They yell a lot.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Seriously, it’s a wonder they haven’t fucked y—” Bucky startles, straightening his posture. Next to him, Sam’s scowling at him. “I mean, oh wow. Have I mentioned that chocolate chip mint is the best ice-cream flavour? Because damn, this is some good—”

Steve sighs. “You guys don’t need to keep doing that, you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just saying that chocolate chip—” Bucky’s eyes widen, his body freezing. “Wait, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“Turn around. Slowly.”

Steve does.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary – parents feeding their kids, couples canoodling in booths, college kids chatting animatedly.

Ransom and Tony at the counter.

It’s surreal, seeing Tony dressed in a band T-shirt and jeans when Steve had just seen him in pyjamas about an hour ago. He racks his brain, trying to figure out if Tony mentioned anything about going on a date with Ransom today. He comes out empty.

If they had noticed Steve and his friends, they don’t give out the impression. Their attention seems to be on the array of flavours before them and each other. Ransom must’ve made a joke because Tony’s doubling over in laughter. A smirk tugs at Ransom’s lips.

Of all the ice-cream parlours in the area, they had to pick the very one Steve’s at right now.

What a coincidence.

As if he read Steve’s mind, Sam’s eyes narrow at the sight. “What the hell are they doing here?”

“And looking chummy as fuck too.” Bucky’s tongue swirls around his spoon, his tongue coated in mint green. “Maybe Tony’s tutoring Ransom here?”

Sam flashes his boyfriend a pointed look. “Why the hell would you wanna tutor anyone in an ice-cream parlour where there are kids screaming their asses off?”

“I don’t know!” Bucky perks up. “Or maybe Tony’s rewarding him for finally understanding what a lever is.”

“Why the hell would he—”

“It’s just a guess, Wilson. You’d—”

Steve tunes out the rest of the bicker, his attention transfixed on Ransom and Tony. They’re standing side-by-side, their shoulders brushing. Tony has a spoon wedged between his teeth as he grins.

Ransom must’ve made a stupid joke about the selections in the guise of wanting to know what Tony would like. If Steve was in his place, he wouldn’t need to ask because every goddamn time Tony would request for two scoops – chocolate chip cookie dough and chocolate hazelnut on a sugared cone because they’ve been best friends since they were kids, not Ransom and Steve would pay for it because they’d be on a fucking date and did Ransom just glance their way, what the f—

“Um, Steve?”

“What?”

One of Bucky’s eyebrows is arched. Sam juts out his chin.

“Your spoon.”

Steve uncurls the fist he had unconsciously made, the plastic spoon in his hand in pieces. 

All thanks to Ransom. Again.

* * *

The next few days pass in a similar fashion. Ransom continues to annoy the hell out of Steve and Bucky and Sam (and now the rest of their friends) trying to coax Steve out of his funk.

Despite his previous worries, Tony does continue tutoring Ransom, though the arguments seem to fizzle out. Whether they decide to take their squabbling down a notch or are secretly making out or doing something Steve needs bleach for, well, he doesn’t want to know.

And that’s the weird thing. Sure, Ransom enjoys taunting Steve about his complicated relationship with Tony, he doesn’t go out of his way to flaunt it or bring it up in front of everyone else. Except maybe the rare instances they pass one another in the hallway. Even then, those moments weird him out too. 

Ransom would usually either pelt him with an insult or ignore his presence altogether. This time, he does something entirely different.

“Did Ransom Rogers just _smile_ at you?” Rhodey comments in stark disbelief as they and Steve watch Ransom saunter off in the other direction.

Tony nods, a wisp of a smile playing on his lips. Steve never thought he’d hate any of Tony’s smiles until now.

“Yeah,” he says fondly, “guess he did.”

If Steve thought that was bizarre, things get much worse the following Saturday afternoon.

“What’re you doing here?” Steve blurts out as soon as he steps inside Tony’s workshop.

Tony’s eyebrows knit together like it usually does when he disapproves, a look Steve never thought he’d receive in relation to Ransom.

His brother doesn’t seem fazed though, flashing him a toothy smirk and his fingers tightening around Tony’s. Steve swallows the urge to slap Ransom’s hand.

“Heard you left for Wilson’s this morning for your History project. And since I know Tony can’t cook to save his life—”

“Hey.”

“No offense, babe. It’s true. I thought I’d drop by and feed the most gorgeous guy in the tri-state area.”

Steve blinks, his brain short-circuiting on the endearment.

Because ‘babe’? Seriously? ‘Babe’?

“You do know that Jake Gyllenhaal lives here, right?” Tony points out, his cheeks turning pink.

Ransom’s lips quirk to the side. “Jake Gyllenhaal got nothing on those baby browns of yours.”

Tony’s flush darkens as he ducks his head. It’s not often that Tony’s embarrassed, let alone speechless. It shouldn’t annoy Steve that Ransom could make Tony feel that way, that Steve barely could.

“Burger King?” Steve guesses, scrapping to distract his stupid brain.

Ransom ignores his brother, grinning at Tony. “Told you twin telepathy is real.”

Tony snorts. “It literally says ‘Whooper’ on the burger wrapper. Try again.”

“And I will,” Ransom drawls. “Just you wait.” 

Steve feels like an intruder watching them talk. Interact. Flirt. 

Ransom balls the burger wrapper before tossing it behind him, missing the trash can by a couple of inches. “Anyway, I should get going and leave you guys to your platonic lunch date.” He jumps to his feet. “So, tomorrow?”

Tony flashes him a smile which shouldn’t be as fond as it looks because since when has Tony ever smiled genuinely at Hugh Ransom Rogers?

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Ransom replies with another bright smile and fuck, if only Steve could through into the floor. “See you then.” And with a mocking salute Steve’s way and a quick pet on Dum-E, Tony’s android, he’s out the door.

Steve has to mentally will himself to walk over to Tony, disposing the balled wrapper and greeting Dum-E along the way.

“‘Babe’?”

Tony shrugs his shoulder, his cheeks colouring. “You know, Ransom. He says whatever the hell he wants.”

Steve ignores the irritation coursing through him. If Tony wants to remain tight-lipped about the whole thing, Steve has to respect that. Again, it’s none of his business.

“Sam’s mum baked cookies,” he says instead. “Bucky almost ate it all but I managed to save a couple for you.”

Tony grins, plucking the packet off Steve’s hands. “Now, _this_ is why I like you the best.”

And just like that, everything rights itself.

They share lunch, debate on the movie they plan on watching tonight, and discuss Tony’s latest inventions. Tony even wolves down the turkey wrap Steve brought him, much to his delight.

But since Steve is a dumbass, he has to bring up the thing that’s faintly nagging at the back of his head.

“You and Ransom going out on another date?”

“Yup,” Tony replies before taking a short sip from a coke bottle Ransom had brought. “Tomorrow.”

Steve forces himself to ignore the odd pang he feels. “What’re your plans?”

Tony shrugs. “No idea. He said it’s a surprise.”

Tomorrow night, Steve finds out that said surprise is a trip to Coney Island, thanks to several enthusiastic texts and a photo from Tony. 

As much as Steve hates to admit it, it’s an adorable picture. Ransom holds his phone out to take the selfie, another arm wrapped around Tony’s waist while Tony beams upwards, a large Bulbasaur plush being choked to death in his arms. 

It’s also rubbing Steve the wrong way.

_Steve: Who won the doll?_

_Tony: Ransom did._

_Tony: Thought it didn’t feel right to not win his date a doll._

_Steve: How many tries did it take?_

_Tony: Seven._

_Tony: He was very determined._

_Steve: Sounds like him._

_Steve: Glad you guys had fun._

_Tony: Oh, it was really fun._

Steve’s about to reply when Tony sends another message.

_Tony: I don’t think I’ve had so much fun in forever._

For the rest of the night, Steve is at a loss of words. In fact, he’s a loss of words for the next couple of weeks as Ransom and Tony go on more dates.

As he watches Ransom and Tony leave on their sixth date (or ten but who’s counting?), Steve’s brain is still trying to reconcile with the fact that this is happening. That his self-centred, rude, and manipulative twin brother is going out with his best friend, who deserves so much better than Ransom Rogers.

Steve has seen Tony when he’s interested in someone (Steve refuses to say they’re dating because no), bushy-tailed and bright-eyed and ready to give his whole heart out. As much as he loves his best friend, he hates how willing he gives his heart away.

On the opposite end, Ransom seems to find himself in Steve’s good books. He’s surprisingly sweet whenever he’s around Tony. He’s attentive whenever Tony launches into one of his scattered rambles and always seems to swing by the workshop bearing food. He even manages to keep things on the down-low in public except for that one time Steve accidentally walks in on them making out on top of the teacher’s desk in an empty classroom.

That would probably remain to be one of the worst moments of his life, along with all the other times Steve has found them in a similar fashion.

That doesn’t mean Steve has let his guard down. Ransom could still have something unsavoury brewing. He wouldn’t put it past him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also reblog this chapter on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/post/190963728051/the-less-i-know-the-better-chapter-four)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the long delay. Writer's block has been pretty difficult to deal with.
> 
> I don't usually post on weekdays for this fic but let's be honest, this story is long overdue. And with everything that has happened these past few weeks, I hope this chapter would cheer some of you up. Stay safe, everyone. <3
> 
> Also, special thanks to [ @steebtiny](https://twitter.com/steebtiny) for helping me beta read for this chapter and agreed to do the rest. 🥰💞

It all takes a sharp turn one blustery Friday.

It happens without warning. One moment, Steve and his friends are sitting at their usual table, chatting as they pretend the cafeteria food is edible for humans. The next, he sees someone drop themselves into the seat next to Tony out of the corner of his eyes and well, it’s pretty obvious who it’d be.

Steve has to admit. He’s been wondering when Ransom and Tony would reveal their relationship (or whatever it is because they can’t be…that) to the rest of their friends. Tony has always been forthcoming with his love life.

This time, however, it’s been kept under wraps. Steve doesn’t want to think of the implications of _that_ because well, it could mean a lot of things. Things he isn’t sure he wants to be connected to his brother.

For a brief second, Steve assumes that Ransom and Tony had mutually agreed to reveal their relationship this way – catching their friends off-guard in the middle of school hours. The both of them always have the flair for the dramatic.

The thought is vanquished the moment stark surprise washes over Tony’s features.

Anger and disbelief creep up Steve. Tony shouldn’t be taken by surprise like this. He should be able to reveal his relationship on his own terms. And Ransom, fucking _Ransom_ , robbed him of his autonomy, his choice, just to fuck with his friends?

He shouldn’t be surprised. It’s typical Ransom behaviour. And yet...

For a long moment, no one says a word, staring at the gatecrasher in various shades of surprise. Even Tony does another double-take when Ransom sends a flirty grin his way, which Tony clumsily returns.

Steve clears his throat, preparing to speak. Unsurprisingly, it’s Bucky who beats him to the punch.

“The fuck are you doing here?” he demands, his eyes narrowed in apparent distrust.

Ransom remains unperturbed, biting into his apple. Judging by the bruises marring the surface, the apple has definitely seen better days.

“What does it look like, Barnes?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“It looks like you’re sitting at a table you’re not welcomed at.”

“Buck,” Steve warns.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Please. You were thinking the same too.”

Well. He’s not wrong about that. 

While the thought of yelling at his brother for being his usual inconsiderate self is tempting, Steve shouldn’t. At the end of the day, Ransom’s still his brother. His asshole twin brother who somehow managed to snag one of the best people Steve has the privilege of knowing. But his brother, nonetheless. He shouldn’t try to provoke his brother in public, at least.

Not to mention, he’d rather not end up as one of the catalysts for another food fight. Mopping up puddles of juice and scrubbing out grease stains out of the cafeteria walls are activities Steve would rather not partake in ever again. There are just some things no one should see or experience, let alone twice.

“He wouldn’t be my brother if he isn’t suspicious of me.” Ransom glances around. “Besides, I don’t see any of your names on the table or any of the chairs. Not even initials. And last I checked, this is a free country.”

“Last I checked,” Bucky retorts, “your table’s on the other end of the room. You know, where the trash is.”

An involuntary groan slips out of Steve’s lips. Rhodey buries his face in his hand, muttering the words ‘lame’ and ‘cringy’ under his breath. Sam nods with his eyes shut, pain written over his face.

“And last I checked, my boyfriend sits with your dumb ass,” Ransom counters. “So excuse me if I want to spend time with him.”

Steve almost drops his fork at that. Carol does, her hair whipping against her cheek.

If everyone was shocked before, that’s nothing compared to the expressions of their faces right now. If Steve isn’t trying to comprehend what his brother has just revealed to the table, he would’ve whipped his phone out and snapped a photo.

Let it not be said that Ransom Rogers isn’t bold. Stupid and rash and bold.

Tony stares at Ransom, mouth agape. “Babe—”

This time, Steve’s fork clatters onto his tray.

And there goes the other shoe.

“Boyfriend?” Sam gasps at the same time Rhodey yelps, “Babe?” and Bucky demands, “Are you shitting us?”

Carol looks like she’s on the brink of murdering her meatloaf. Natasha looks on passively, her lips set in a grim line. Steve has a feeling she knows more than she should.

Ransom shakes his head, a patronizing smile on his lips. “The things I do for romance.” He rolls his eyes, surveying the table. “Calm your fucking asses down. We haven’t even started making out yet.”

Tony musters a smirk. It looks wrong. Half-hearted. The kind he’d put on when he’s feeling uncomfortable. 

Just like that, Steve’s anger returns.

“I mean the day is young…”

Ransom grins, leaning forward, attempting to close the distance between the two of them. “Well, when you—”

“Cut the bullshit,” Bucky snaps. Steve lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding. “You didn’t answer the question. Is this a joke or what?”

Ransom settles back in his seat, fixing his gaze on Bucky. “I may joke about a lot of things but I’ll never joke about dating someone.” 

Carol scoffs. “Sure you don’t.”

“I’m serious here. It’s really rude and disrespectful to your partner. I don’t recommend doing it.” Ransom nudges his head towards Tony. “Just ask him.”

Everyone’s heads whip over to Tony, who freezes at the sudden attention. Despite the brief panic crossing his face, he quickly recovers, nodding solemnly.

The table falls into a pin-drop silence, only interrupted with Carol tapping her fork onto her tray, the resounding clanging filling the air.

Ransom doesn’t react to that. He remains unperturbed as he continues to devour his apple, his lips smacking noisily. 

The urge to toss his own apple at his brother’s head overwhelms Steve. And with each agonizing second, the thought of it grows even more tempting. His apple looks half-rotten anyway. It would be a waste to just chuck it down the trash can.

But then he remembers food fights, the lectures from his mother, and the possible lashing from Tony and quickly pushes the urge to the side.

Rhodey lifts his own fork, gesturing between the couple. “So… How long has this been going on?”

“About…” Tony pauses, his form tensing. “About three weeks ago.”

Again, everyone lapses into an awkward silence, save for Ransom chowing down the apple like a total dick and god, Steve’s ready to—

“You guys have been dating for three weeks?” Carol demands, hints of accusation and incredulity in her tone. “And you never told us?”

Something sparks through Tony. He sets his knife on the tray, leaning forward with fire in his eyes. “It’s none of your business if I tell you or not,” he snaps. “I have the right to tell you who I’m dating or not. You’re not my mum. None of you are.”

Another bout of awkward silence settles in. Steve presses his lips together, having realized they’ve been parted. It’s been a while since he’s seen Tony being overprotective of his...partner? Love interest? Boy—

The outburst seems to pacify Carol for the moment, her cheeks colouring. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just…”

Tony softens at that, his brow smoothening. “No, I— I’m sorry I snapped. I know you’re just looking out for me.” He turns to each one of them in turn. “All of you.”

When Steve meets his gaze, Tony flashes him a weak smile. Steve responds with the best encouraging smile he could muster.

“I just… I know things aren’t great between all of us. I mean, between all of you and Ransom. And I get why you’d be sceptical because trust me, if one of you were in my place, I’d feel the same. But—”

Ransom snorts. “Such faith.”

Tony rolls his eyes, elbowing him in the ribs. “You shush. I’m trying to do something.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to say—”

“ _Ransom_.”

“Fine,” Ransom relents. “Carry on.”

From the corner of Steve’s eyes, he watches Sam do a double-take. Steve isn’t surprised by his reaction. He can’t remember the last time Ransom let someone chastise him and let them get away with it. In fact, the only person he could think of is their mother.

Tony’s lips part but Bucky cuts him off before he could continue.

“Shouldn’t this be something he should be saying?” he points out, his scowl deepening. “Not you.”

“As much as I hate to say it,” Ransom chimes in, cutting Tony off as well. He drops his half-eaten apple back onto his tray, “he’s right.”

With that said, he climbs onto the table.

“What the—”

“Rogers, get the f—”

“Ransom,” Steve starts, his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, “don’t—”

“Ransom,” Tony begins loudly, tugging at Ransom’s sweater, “what the hell are you—”

“Listen up, asshats!” Ransom calls out. He’s raised his voice loud enough to reach the other end of the room, catching the attention of every single student. For the billionth time in his life, Steve wishes to sink to the floor and never resurface because his brother’s acting like a dumbass.

“Ransom,” Tony hisses. Again, his pleas go unheard.

“I’d like to say that Anthony Edward Stark, better known to the student body as Tony Stark, and I, Ransom Rogers, are dating—”

Someone wolf-whistles at the back of the cafeteria. Whoever that did it is going to be on Steve’s blacklist for the rest of the year.

“Get it, Tony!” a voice yells who sounds suspiciously like Scott Lang and yup, he’s definitely not getting Steve’s help the next time he asks for it. And Scott asks for it a lot.

“Thanks, Lang!” Tony calls back. Sam snickers.

“Congratulations!” Thor Odinson’s booming voice adds several tables away. His good wishes astound Steve, considering how often Thor and Ransom would clash when Thor and Tony used to date. Then again, Thor doesn’t hold grudges for long and always tries to see the best in people. It’s one of the reasons why he’s Steve’s favourite among Tony’s exes.

“But if you break Tony’s heart, Rogers, I’ll—”

“Beat my ass up, yeah, yeah. That was what I was about to say. Get in line, Odinson. Everyone’s waiting to get a piece of me. And unfortunately, not in the best way.” Ransom clears his throat. “As I was saying, Tony and I are dating and I’m taking this relationship very seriously. I want to do right by him and I swear I won’t break his heart.” He turns to face Steve and his friends, his gleeful smirk unwavering. “And I know, all of us hadn’t gotten along—”

“Understatement of the century,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

“—but for Tony, I’ll try.” With that said, Ransom gestures dropping an invisible microphone. “Boom. Mic drop.”

Around their table, there’s a collection of varying groans. Steve buries his face between his hands for a split second, heat spreading over his cheeks.

Most students return to their lunch without a word but there are polite claps sounding from across the cafeteria. Steve can’t fathom why. 

“That speech was shit!” someone suddenly yells. It sounds like one of the sophomores. Steve just can’t recall—

“Oh yeah?” Ransom hops back on the table, jabbing his finger at the ocean of faces. “This is coming from someone who thinks calling someone a penis is an effective insult!”

“Well! Uh… Well, it is!”

“Sure,” Ransom replies, rolling his eyes. “You keep telling yourself that and—”

“ _And_ it’s time for you to stop,” Tony hastily interrupts, yanking on Ransom’s sweater again. His cheeks are deeply flushed. “We don’t wanna get in trouble again, do we?”

“But he—”

“ _Ransom_.”

Ransom exhales heavily, slipping back into his seat. “Fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Only ‘cause you said so.”

“Wish you listened to me before,” Tony says, shaking his head. “Because that? That was embarrassing.”

“Hey, the people gotta know.” Ransom’s eyebrows knit together. “I mean, I thought—” 

“No, it’s not—” Tony sighs. “I told you. I’m fine with people knowing. I just didn’t expect you to, you know…”

“Of course, I would,” Ransom says, his features softening. “For you, I would.”

Tony mirrors his expression. Bucky makes a retching noise, only silenced by the sharp glare Natasha tosses his way.

Steve itches to sprint out of the building and never return. He doubts he’d ever get used to seeing them look each other that way.

“Following up on what Thor said,” Rhodey begins, fortunately breaking the moment up. “You hurt Tony and I’m telling you—”

“Rhodey!” Tony exclaims, sounding mortified. “Platypus, don’t—”

“I’m serious, man. If he ever so happens to make you sad, just a small curve of—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll kick my ass,” Ransom finishes, picking his apple back up. “I expect nothing less from the co-captain of the Tony Stark Defense Squad.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean me. I mean, I’ll definitely join in. No questions asked.” Rhodey jabs his thumb behind him. “But I’m talking ‘bout them.”

Carol makes a show of cracking her knuckles. Natasha nods, looking disinterested as she shoves a wilted cauliflower into her mouth.

“I mean,” Ransom leers. “I’ve definitely had a dream where—”

“Finish that sentence,” Natasha interrupts, her voice composed but charged with meaning, “and this fork goes up your ass.”

Ransom snickers but lets it go. “So,” he says, clasping his hands together, “now that we’ve sung Kumbaya together, let’s just continue eating the garbage the American school system decides to feed us while we discuss how to overthrow the government, shall we?”

Despite his remark, the table devolves into silence, save for the clinking of cutlery and quiet chewing. Steve trains his gaze on his tray, ignoring the looks his friends keep flashing him. He can’t figure out why. Shouldn’t they be staring at his brother, not him?

“So,” Rhodey begins, “when did this all begin?”

Ransom grins lazily. “Oh, you know. Like most classic enemies-to-lovers stories. We argued, got too close, made out—”

“I’d like to hear it from Tony. If you don’t mind.”

Something flickers over Ransom’s face but it’s gone before Steve could figure out what it is.

Tony shrugs his shoulders as he reaches over to Ransom’s palm, lacing their fingers together. “He got the gist of it, really.”

Carol glances away from their intertwined fingers, gesturing her fork between Ransom and Tony. “So what? The tutoring thing was a lie?”

“Nah, that was a real thing,” Ransom replies. “I mean, if you don’t believe me or Tony, which will be shitty of you guys, you could always ask Steve.”

Again, everyone’s eyes drift back to Steve’s direction, this time with varying shades of disbelief.

“You _knew_ about this?” Bucky demands.

Steve’s lips part but nothing falls out of them. After all, what’s there to say? It’s not his story to tell, anyway.

Ransom hums in agreement. “Walked in on us making out. Poor sap. In fact, he walked in on us making out, about let’s see here…” Ransom begins counting with his fingers. “Eleven, twelve—”

“Ransom,” Tony warns.

“Sorry.”

Carol whistles lowly. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day Ransom Rogers could be tamed.”

Ransom smirks. “Oh, if you only knew the things we’d do. Like there was this one time that—”

“Please spare us. It’s already bad enough I gotta see—”

From the corner of his eyes, Steve watches Natasha nudge Bucky in the ribs. 

“Is that jealousy I’m detecting in your voice, Barnes?” Ransom adds lightly, cocking an eyebrow.

Bucky flashes him an insincere smile. “I’m not the one who should be worried about my relationship lasting ‘till the end of the month.”

The awkward atmosphere shifts into a more stilted yet charged with exasperation and tension. It’s moments like these that Steve wishes he could keep his brother and his best friend ten feet apart from each other for the rest of their lives.

Tony visibly flinches and Steve’s anger shifts to Bucky as well.

“Oh, really?” There’s nonchalance in his tone but Steve knows his brother. The mischievous spark is gone from his eyes, genuine malice taking its place. “You might want to take some time to think about your reaction. It’s quite telling.”

Bucky leaps out of his chair, clattering to the ground, the noise attracting attention from nearby tables. Ransom isn’t fazed, slowly rising to his feet as Bucky presses forward, their noses a couple of inches away from one another, his hands balled into fists.

“You didn’t just—”

“Buck,” Steve begins, jumping to his feet at the same time Tony’s wrist latches around Ransom’s. Steve almost turns away on instinct.

The rest at the table seems to move into action with everyone on their feet. Sam immediately makes his way over to Bucky’s side, pressing his palm against his chest.

“Bucky, babe,” Sam says in a pacifying manner. “Don’t.”

“But he—”

“I know. But it’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

Bucky’s fists begin to tremble.

Ransom’s shoulders shake. Steve could imagine the expression on his face – a cool and cruel smirk giving way to a mocking laugh, which accompanies an arched eyebrow.

“Better listen to your friends,” he says sweetly.” Don’t wanna cause a scene, do we?”

At first, Bucky seems like he’s going to throw caution to the wind and sock Ransom in the jaw. But then his shoulders slump and he lets his boyfriend pull him back towards his seat.

For the billionth time today, an uncomfortable silence settles between them.

“Excuse us,” Tony mumbles as he gets to his feet, his tray in his grasp. He nudges his boyfriend with his foot. “C’mon.”

“But—”

“ _Now_ , Ransom,” Tony snaps, his eyes ablaze.

Unsurprisingly, that seems to shut Ransom up as he reaches for his own tray.

“Well,” Sam remarks as they watch them head over to the nearest trash can. “That was…something.”

“It was— Ow!”

Natasha doesn’t seem affronted, returning to her sad slice of meatloaf. Cafeteria food really does blow. “You need to apologize to them. As soon as you can.”

It’s at this moment that Steve realizes that Natasha has not breathed a word since Ransom made his unfortunate appearance.

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “For what?” he demands. “For telling the truth? C’mon, Tasha. It’s Ransom. He just insulted—”

“I’m not saying Ransom’s not at fault,” she interrupts. “He is. For a lot of reasons. But you also shouldn’t have said that about their relationship. You know how insecure Tony is about making his relationships last.”

Bucky blinks. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t. But you know Tony.”

“She’s right,” Rhodey says sternly. “That was uncalled for.”

“But it’s true!” Bucky exclaims. “We all know that if Ransom doesn’t look like Steve—”

A chill courses through Steve’s spine.

“ _James_ ,” Natasha warns.

Bucky sighs. “Fine. I’ll go apologize to them. Later.”

“And I’ll make sure he does,” Sam volunteers.

“But—”

“Bucky,” Steve says. “Just do it. If not for Ransom, do it for Tony.”

Bucky huffs but he does look genuinely guilty. “Fine. For Tony. But look, man. I get he’s your brother. I do. But he’s a sack of shit. Need I remind you of the trouble you’d get in because of him? Of how he treats you? Of how he treats half of the student body? And you expect us to watch our friend—”

Steve sighs. “I know he can be…difficult.”

Bucky snorts. “The second understatement of the century,” he mutters, earning another swat from Natasha and a steely glare from Sam.

“And I know you guys don’t like him,” Steve continues. “I get it. I really do. You all have reasons to. But Tony chose to date him on his own free will. And we’re Tony’s friends. We don’t have to like it but we can try to be supportive of the whole thing. I’m sure he needs it.” 

Rhodey nods. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Steve tosses him a grateful look. Of course, he’d understand. Even with Steve entering the picture, Tony and Rhodey remain to have a stronger bond, having been friends since they were in diapers.

Carol bobs her head, tapping her fingers against the table surface. “Ransom wasn’t lying when he said you knew, huh?”

Steve nods.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s not my place to say.” His gaze drifts back to his half-eaten slab of meatloaf, two florets of wilted cauliflower, a half-bruised apple, and an unopened carton of apple juice. “Tony didn’t want anyone to know. He was afraid of how you guys would react. I mean, the only reason I even knew was because I accidentally walked in on them. At the end of the day, Tony and Ransom can make their own decisions. And I know you guys are looking out for Tony. And I’m happy you guys are. But I’ve seen these past few weeks. Ransom does make Tony happy.”

“Really?” Carol asks, arching an eyebrow.

If Steve hadn’t heard it with his own two ears and witnessed Tony’s expression, he would’ve shared her scepticism.

“He said so himself. Happier than he has been in a while.”

His friends exchange dubious looks before morphing into various states of exasperation and…pity?

Steve figures that’ll be the end of it when everyone scatters off to their next class. But since Bucky’s Bucky, he decides that hounding his best friend is more important than being on time to class.

“I knew Rhodey was the only one with brain cells,” he remarks as he leans against Tony’s locker.

Steve sighs as he unlocks his own. “Bucky.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll stop taking shots at your brother.” He pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For now. I mean, he’s not the only idiot in the Rogers’ family. And I ain’t talking ‘bout your ma.”

“Wh—”

“I mean, this was what you meant, right? When you texted me that night?”

Steve mulls over the question in his head. “They went on their first date that night.”

Bucky throws his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“Ransom’s his own man,” Steve answers lamely. “Boy. Guy. Whatever. Besides, you know he doesn’t listen to me.”

“I’m not talking ‘bout Ransom.”

Steve sighs heavily, shutting his locker door. “I’m not his keeper. Both of their keepers.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky says. “C’mon, you gotta know why Tony got with Ransom. And it ain’t ‘cause of his charming personality.”

“I mean, Tony did say Ransom was pretty charming.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can do anything about it. I don’t like Tony that way.”

Bucky detaches himself from the locker door. “Okay. Fine. Maybe this could be good, you know? Tony could finally move on and Ransom could finally be likeable and—”

“ _Buck_.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.”

* * *

The rest of the day passes at a snail’s pace. Ransom and Tony’s nowhere to be found during Gym, much to Mr Howlett’s annoyance.

Somehow, Steve feels like it’s his fault.

It probably is. After all, Ransom’s his brother. His responsibility. He should’ve seen it all coming from a mile away. Plus, he let the rest of their friends run their mouth, attacking Tony and Ransom from every side.

He doesn’t doubt that their friends would come around. Rhodey and Sam seem to be resigned over the whole thing. So is Natasha but she’s always been hard to read. Carol and Bucky would definitely need time just like Steve. But like Steve too, they would come to tolerate the relationship. Eventually.

He quickly rushes out of his final class as soon as the final bell rings, eager to catch the two of them before they leave. Pausing at his locker, he fishes out his phone and presses dial. Both Tony and Ransom’s calls go to voicemail. He switches to text instead.

_Steve: Hey._

_Steve: You okay?_

He doesn’t get a reply.

He shouldn’t be surprised. It’s a stupid question in the first place. Of course he isn’t. Not after all the stunts Ransom pulled or the things Bucky and Ransom said and—

_Steve: Can we talk?_

He hustles out of the building, stopping by a curb to check his phone. Again, nothing.

Steve’s about to start his walk home when a familiar black Toyota pulls up in front of him.

The driver’s car window winds down, revealing Natasha. She drops her sunglasses further down her nose, her steely green eyes trained on him. “Need a lift?”

Steve grins. “What’s the catch?”

“What makes you think there’s a catch?” she remarks casually. “Maybe I’m being generous.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Steve says but gets into the passenger seat.

As Steve stows his backpack in the backseat, Natasha taps on her phone several times. Familiar drumming and wispy vocals begin to fill the car.

“Metric?” Steve guesses as he buckles up.

Natasha shrugs as she turns the volume dial. “Carol has good taste in music.”

“Not saying she doesn’t.”

“Not implying you think that way,” she replies, pulling away from the curb.

They sit through a couple of more alternative rock tracks before Natasha breaks the silence.

“So,” she begins, her voice the epitome of nonchalance. “Tony and Ransom.”

Steve lets out a guttural groan.

Of course. He shouldn’t be surprised. Natasha always has something up her sleeve.

“So?”

She leans forward, putting her speakers on mute. “Thoughts?”

“Like I said, we gotta be—”

Natasha cocks an eyebrow. “You’re avoiding the question, Steven.”

“What’s there to say?” he asks, glancing to the side, watching the scenery pass them by.

“You really are a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, huh.” She shakes her head. “If only Sharon was here. Maybe she’d get a proper answer out of you.”

As much as Steve loves Sharon, he’s glad she isn’t here. He can’t imagine what she’d say or do. Probably cuff him and rant about how much of an idiot Steve is. 

Natasha has been more of Tony’s friend first and foremost. It’s only when Sharon moved down to Washington that Steve and Natasha became closer. She even managed to fill Sharon’s shoes in calling out his dumb ass. Whether Sharon told her to do so is a story he’d rather not touch. Ever.

“You knew, didn’t you? About them.” Steve glances away from the window. “I mean, you didn’t look surprised when they said it.”

Natasha nods. “They weren’t exactly being subtle, you know.”

“Maybe not to Natasha Romanoff, they weren’t,” he teases.

She tilts her head to the side. “Maybe. I mean, they’ve smiled at each other this week a hundred times more than they did throughout the past decade.” She pauses as she turns on her signal light. “Also, you’ve been sulking.”

Steve blinks. “I’m not— I wasn’t sulking.”

Natasha snorts. “Like I’ve said before, you’re a terrible liar.”

“I— But I’m telling the truth!”

Somehow, telling the truth earns him an eye-roll. “Please. Every time they look at each other, you get this weird look on your face. Like you don’t know whether to throw Ransom or yourself off a cliff.”

“So, what?” Steve demands, irritation creeping in. “You think I’m jealous?”

“Hey. You said it, not me.”

Steve shakes his head in disbelief. They’ve walked down this road one too many times already. He doesn’t know why she’d bring it up again. They always end up at the same answer.

“If you’re trying to help unearth my ‘unconscious’ feelings for Tony again, you’re not going to find anything. Again.”

“Uh huh.”

Steve huffs. “I’m just worried, okay? I’m just worried that Ransom isn’t—isn’t—”

“Isn’t genuine?” Natasha offers, raising her other eyebrow.

The question hits him straight to his heart. It’s one thing to wind up to that conclusion. But to hear it out loud is another.

Fortunately for him, she doesn’t add anything to the conversation since they’re pulling up on the sidewalk. He likes Natasha. He really does. 

But god, is he eager to lock himself up in his room for the rest of the day and be away from all those thoughts she’s eager to bring up again for some unknown reason.

“Thanks for the ride, Nat,” he begins hurriedly, grabbing his backpack from the back. “See you on—”

Soft fingers wrap themselves around his wrist, cutting off his escape.

“Steve?”

He twists around.

Natasha’s gaze roams over his face. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking since her expression’s unreadable. “Maybe Tony’s not the only one you should be worried about, you know?”

“Nat—”

“Something to think about,” she says, her lips quirked to the side as she releases her grip on him.

The question plays in Steve’s mind even after her car disappears around the bend, even when he steps inside his house, even when he chances upon Ransom and Tony in the living room.

Steve gets what she’s insinuating. As a brother, he should be worried. More worried than he should be for Tony.

And yet as he walks in on them in the living room speaking in hushed tones with their heads bent together and their fingers laced together, Steve’s stomach flips and his heart beats and—

“Well, well. ‘Bout time you showed up.”

Steve snaps out of his reverie. 

Tony and Ransom are watching him with different expressions – Tony with a mixture of caution and apprehension, and Ransom with obvious glee.

It’s reactions like this that Steve can’t agree with Natasha. As serious as Ransom might be with Tony, he still seizes every opportunity to taunt Steve.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Steve gestures behind him, taking a couple of steps backwards. “I’ll just— I’ll go.”

“Damn. Didn’t peg you for a coward, Stevie.”

Tony exhales heavily. “Ransom—”

“I’m gonna head upstairs first. You know, get out all the textbooks and worksheets and shit.” Ransom leans forward, pecking Tony on the cheek. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything, okay?”

Tony’s gaze flickers over to Steve’s and back to Ransom’s before nodding.

It stings, watching the exchange. Watching Tony act warily around Steve, a close friend, and not Ransom, his supposed arch-enemy (turned boyfriend, but still) shouldn’t happen. It really shouldn’t.

As Ransom’s footfalls fade into the distance, Tony reaches over to the coffee table to pick up a glass of orange juice. “Jesus, don’t just stand around. Sit. It’s your house, for god’s sake.”

Steve gulps, dropping his bag onto the ground before settling onto the opposite end of the couch. “Sorry. And I’m not talking about, you know, for not sitting down.”

A wisp of a smile graces Tony’s lips as he shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault my boyfriend and our friends are assholes. No offense.”

Steve’s brain short-circuits at the ‘boyfriend’ part but quickly recovers. Or at least before Tony notices. “None taken.”

Tony speaks after a long bout of silence. “Ransom and I talked it over. He agreed to apologize to them.”

Steve blinks. “You don’t have to—” 

“They’re my friends too, Steve. I shouldn’t have let it go out of hand.”

“I shouldn’t have either,” Steve says gently. “Ransom’s my brother too.”

Tony sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, it could’ve gotten worse. At least they didn’t start throwing cauliflower at each other.”

Steve smirks. “Remember the last food fight? Bucky was drenched in milk.”

Tony’s grin widens. “And Carol dumped her tuna casserole all over Ty?”

Steve makes a face. The casserole from the cafeteria could barely be even considered edible, even after all these years. “That was disgusting.”

“It was amazing. Everyone avoided him like a plague for the whole week.”

“And amazing,” Steve echoes. “And smelly. I think he only got the smell out after a week.”

“Still. Worth it.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Worth it.”

A short chuckle escapes Tony’s lips before flattening. “I just… I get why they acted that way. I would’ve too if one of them was dating Ransom. But I just… He’s not so bad once you get to know him, you know?”

Steve’s stomach churns. “Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you would,” Tony says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re his brother.”

 _Is that why you told me?_ he wonders. _You told me. Not Rhodey or Carol or Nat or anyone else. Me._

The thing is, he can’t reconcile with the thought of Ransom being honest with Tony. Sure, he has his moments. Steve won’t deny that. 

But Ransom’s prone to lying and deceit. Maybe the bright smiles and tender touches are a front. A front just to fuck with Steve.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” Tony says, getting to his feet. He swallows a mouthful of orange juice, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Steve’s eyes follow the movement, his throat suddenly feeling drier than it did before. “I should head upstairs. Duty calls.”

Panic suddenly surges through him. He can’t just let Tony go like this. He needs to say something, to make him stay, just—

“You know,” Steve blurts out, “when you’re done with tutoring Ransom, we could go out and watch a movie. Or head out to Wade’s. I’ve been craving—”

Tony pauses his trek to flash him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Ransom wants to take me out to dinner at that new Italian place next to Delmar’s.”

Steve feels himself deflate. “Oh.”

Of course. Friday nights are date nights. Ever since Ransom and Tony went out that first night, they’ve made it a habit of going out on Friday nights. Sure, they’ve gone out other times. But Friday nights have become theirs.

Fuck, how could Steve forget?

“I mean,” Tony offers, “we could go to Wade’s tomorrow.”

Steve nods vigorously, feeling like a bobblehead. “Yeah. Sure. Totally.”

“Sorry. I just—”

“Don’t apologize,” Steve interrupts. “It’s fine.”

Tony nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. I’ll just—”

“Yeah.” Steve gestures to the upper floor with his head. “Go on. Don’t wanna keep his highness waiting.”

Tony lets out a snort. Just the sound of it sets Steve at ease.

He waits for the door to shut before picking up his bag and heading to his own room, eager to start on his homework that’ll hopefully distract him from whatever’s going on next door.

At some point, Steve must’ve drifted off because the next thing he knows, he’s waking to a sudden sharp pain coming from his foot.

He bolts upwards, almost tumbling off his chair. “What the—”

“Mum says she’ll be running late and to order pizza,” Ransom says, towering over him with his phone in hand. “C’mon, what’d you want?”

“You know what I want,” Steve grumbles as he groggily rubs his eyes. “Pine—”

“—apple and olives, yeah, yeah.” Ransom snorts. “Heathen.”

Steve ignores the bait. “I thought he said you guys were going out.”

Ransom shrugs. “We are. But Tony insisted I’d order pizza for you. Don’t know why since you can order your own.”

Steve can’t figure out which is more bizarre – the thought of Ransom willingly ordering pizza for Steve, Ransom listening to Tony, or Tony asking Ransom to order Steve a pizza. Steve can definitely order his own pizza.

“Oh. Where’s Tony anyway?”

“Bathroom.”

As he watches his brother rattle off the order on the phone, all of his bottled up feelings from the cafeteria incident comes rushing back.

“Well?” Steve begins as soon as Ransom’s off the phone.

“Well what?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow.

Ransom rolls his eyes. “Despite the fact that we’re twins, I can’t read your mind.”

“Just now. At the cafeteria. What the fuck was that?”

“What? I can’t sit with my boyfriend now?”

“I don’t care whether you’re sitting with him or not. I’m talking about that stunt you pulled.”

Ransom arches an eyebrow, pocketing his phone. “What about Barnes? He—”

“I’m not talking about Bucky—”

“Your Bucky disrespected my boyfriend and our relationship,” Ransom counters. “So yes, we should—”

“What Bucky did is between him and you two,” Steve snaps. “Sure, we can talk about that later. But right now, I want to talk about how you made Tony uncomfortable—”

“Since when did I make him uncomfortable?” Ransom demands.

Steve almost throws his hands in the air. His brother can’t be this obtuse, this stupid. He has to be aware of his actions. Of what he has done.

“You took away his autonomy. His right to reveal your relationship—”

“It’s my relationship too,” Ransom counters.

“But it should’ve been a mutual agreement. But you surprised him and—”

“He’s fine with it. You were there. You heard what he said.”

“He might be fine with people knowing,” Steve argues. “But I don’t think your way of telling people was the right way to go about it.”

Ransom breaks into boisterous laughter, his shoulders quaking. “Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Steve scowls, his fingers curling. “This isn’t funny. I’m being serious here.”

“I know you are. I just—” Ransom breaks into another bout of laughter, throwing his hands up. “Where’s this energy when I was with Quill? Or Cabrera? Or even Laufeyson?”

Just like that, the fire in Steve is doused.

“They weren’t— They weren’t my business.”

“And Tony is?”

Steve huffs, his jaw clenching. “He’s my best friend.”

Ransom’s grin turns razor sharp. “Maybe Barnes’ right. He’s not the jealous one. But you. Oh, _you_ —”

“Don’t you dare—” 

A sharp rap on the door silences Steve.

“Uh, guys?” Tony begins tentatively. “You two aren’t killing each other in there, right?”

“Not even close,” Ransom says a little too cheerfully. “Just having a friendly one-on-one chat with my twin brother. Right, Stevie?”

Steve tries not to grind his teeth together. “Yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says, sounding like he doesn’t believe them in the slightest. “Whatever beef you’re having, I’m not touching it with a ten-foot pole. I’ll meet you downstairs, Ransom. See you tomorrow, Steve.”

“Okay,” Ransom calls at the same time Steve replies with, “See you.” They scowl at each other.

“Uh huh,” Tony says but leaves anyway, his footsteps fading away.

Steve exhales, feeling exhausted all of the sudden. He’s sick of all this. The drama, the anger, the fighting. Maybe he should stop fighting this, stop inserting himself, stop overthinking and let them live their lives.

“Don’t fuck things up.”

Ransom scoffs. “C’mon—”

“ _Hugh_.”

His brother seems startled at that but his lips quickly twist into a smirk. “Fine. I solemnly swear I won’t break your best friend’s heart.”

Steve rolls his eyes. It could be a lie. Hell, it definitely is a lie. But he should feel some semblance of relief. Satisfaction. At least a little bit.

Instead, he just feels so, so empty.

“You really are an idiot, huh?”

Steve lifts his head up, meeting his brother’s gaze. “Takes one to know one.”

“Maybe,” Ransom says before twisting the doorknob. “At least I’m not the idiot who’s lying to himself.”

The door shuts behind him with an echoing click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also reblog this chapter on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/post/613470136386666496/the-less-i-know-the-better-chapter-five)!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm also jumping on the Ransom-and-Steve-are-twins bandwagon. This story isn't going to be a long fic, about several chapters long and an epilogue. This was originally supposed to be about 10k and a one-shot but like always, things got out of hand.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading so far! If you want to talk, I'm on [Tumblr](https://kapteniron.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/kapteniron)


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